If I Should Die Before I Wake
by Petronius
Summary: Buffy battles to save the lost soul of her love, Johannes Martel. But Drusilla has other ideas! Again the Slayer must choose, follow her heart or save the world. Conclusion to Carpe Diem.
1. Part 1 That which was lost

"If I should die before I wake" - Part 1 _by  
Gaius Petronius_

DISCLAIMER:  
Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all the characters that appear on the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, the WB, Fox and Mutant Enemy, Inc. I only borrow them, mess with their heads, make them cry and, every once in a while, torture them. I do lay claim to the character of Johannes Martel since he is the central character in an original novel I've been working on now for too many years.

Spoilers: BtVS season two. Originally written in script format during the spring of 1998, "If I should die before I wake" is the sequel to my first Buffy novel, "Carpe Diem."

Rating: T for violence and language.

**"If I Should Die Before I Wake"  
Chapter 1  
**by Gaius Petronius

"But in the grey of the morning,  
My mind becomes confused  
Between the dead and the sleeping  
And the road that I must choose."

The Moody Blues, "Question," 1970

"Now I lay me down to sleep,  
I pray the Lord my soul to keep.  
If I should die before I wake,  
I pray the Lord my soul to take."

Anonymous child's prayer

**Chapter 1 - A Light in the Darkness**

Three weeks could be like three seconds. Or they could become the endless roll of minutes, hours and days in a seemingly random and meaningless progression of fragments in time. At least that's what it seemed like to Willow as should stood every morning before class on the concrete steps of Sunnydale High.

For the last three weeks now, Willow had waited faithfully for the rest of the Scooby Gang amidst the crowds of Sunnydale students on the steps. The Scoobies used to congregate there, gather in a tightly knit group and plot out their strategies. First it was for the daytime activities, floundering with relationships, salvaging Buffy and Xander from failing history, Algebra or whatever and generally doing battle with the educational system of southern California.

Then for the upcoming evening, the strategies shifted to research for Giles in the library, activating the "phone pool" if things looked like they could get "wiggy," patrolling the cemetery between pit stops at the Bronze but mostly battling to keep the undead hoards of the Sunnydale Hellmouth at bay. "Same ol' same ol'."

But no longer. Three weeks ago it had all changed. Xander, who had never been known for his punctuality, now rarely made it to his desk in the back row of first period Algebra I before the bell rang. Willow was used to his repeated excuse of wiping out on his skateboard on the way in. She would just shake her head and sigh.

Without Xander lingering on the steps in the morning, Cordelia would slip right by, not even taking the time to toss off a mean spirited fashion statement at Willow. It was curious, too, she noted, that Xander and the head cheerleader spent less time out of sight in the nearest broom closet and were more often seen just sitting together talking. Talking! That was not a good sign. Willow shook her head again.

Oz had an excuse. Dingoes were now regulars at the Bronze and the last set finished up just after 1 a.m. Never a morning person anyway, Oz had deliberately scheduled a first period study hall before he had met Willow. For her he made the effort to arrive for the morning Scooby meetings on the steps, but in the last three weeks, Willow had rarely run into him each day before lunch.

Then there was Buffy herself. Usually the first to arrive after Willow, the Slayer had used those moments to share secrets with her "best bud" before classes under the California morning sunshine. Buffy had even dubbed Willow the "first Slayerette" although that could be due more to Willow tutoring Buffy through US history than anything to do with Willow's ability or lack thereof at Slayer type things.

In less than two years, Buffy and Willow had become close, closer in many ways even than Willow and Xander although Xander still ranked pretty high up there. He was, after all, the one who used to put salamanders down Willow's shirt when they were kids just to make her scream. He also got his first detention in kindergarten for punching Jimmy Gulano who teased Willow about her red hair and made her cry. No, Xander was still important, even though he now hung out with Cordelia Chase.

But Buffy and Willow, that was something different. These were real secrets, feelings, stuff about Angel and how Buffy was coping with his transformation into Angelus. And then there was also Buffy's relationship with Johannes Martel, or Jonathan as Buffy had renamed him.

Jonathan was a teenager from four hundred years ago and a telekinetic who could move physical objects by just thinking about them. Willow had accidentally reanimated him from a set of spell books that Giles had stumbled onto. Still struggling with what he was and how to control his powers, Jonathan was a natural addition to the Scooby Gang. Maybe it was when he de-pantsed Principal Snyder in the hallway with his telekinetic powers that everyone knew, but for Buffy it had been even earlier.

The Slayer was immediately attracted to his self confident if confused manner. The fact that he was tall and cute helped as well. He just had to lose the weird clothes. With a smile, Willow remembered the first morning on this very spot where the Scoobies had tried to sneak Jonathan into Sunnydale High.

"Now listen up," Buffy had grinned and slapped Johannes on the shoulder, "We gotta get all the stories straight here 'cause that Snyder is a vulture, and we have to be ready for him!"

Johannes Martel, wide eyed and wondering what kind of entity the despicable "Snyder" was, nodded eagerly.

"Your name is gonna be 'Jonathan,'" Buffy declared.

"That's what Telemon calls me," Johannes said trying to be helpful, "He's from Scotland and taught me English."

"Sshh!" Buffy ordered, "Don't confuse things, just listen. Your name is Jonathan. You're my cousin."

The newly christened Jonathan nodded again.

"You're a foreign exchange student," Buffy continued methodically, "And you're from . . ." she suddenly paused, not  
able to think of a location.

"Where are you from?" she asked.

"The Holy Roman Empire?" he answered in confusion.

"NO!" Buffy snapped, "That won't cut it!"

"Vienna?" Jonathan tried again, trying to please.

"Better!" Buffy exclaimed, "We'll use that. Now stick close, keep your mouth shut and DON'T do anything weird!"

Buffy spun about and glared at Willow and Xander.

"No laughing!" she demanded, "This is going to be hard enough!"

Willow hung her head as she recalled that bright morning. It had all happened so quickly, Buffy and Jonathan realizing their powers made them share a calling neither had any control over, much less even a choice. Both wanted desperately just to be normal, and both knew they were condemned to what would likely be a short, violent life.

Faced with the premonition that Jonathan was already doomed, Buffy and Jonathan both rebelled against the inevitable, seized the day as Buffy noted flippantly from a T-shirt, and fell in love.

"Carpe Diem and all that," she told him. "Maybe only an hour or a week . . . maybe a month . . . might be a year. But stay with me."

Willow shuddered, despite the warm rays of the sun. It was just too painful to think about anymore. All she could remember was that awful moment three weeks ago when Jonathan had died in Buffy's arms. Willow couldn't rid her mind of the image, in the last seconds, of his body turning to dust. And Buffy standing frozen in the basement of the old warehouse, where moments before she had held him close, now silent, alone, the horror of the event seared into her soul.

Willow closed her eyes momentarily and recouped her thoughts.

It had been Drusilla, no question there. She had orchestrated the plot to destroy Jonathan. Miss Bug Eyed Looney Tunes, with the help of Spike . . . and Angelus. Willow had hoped for revenge, dreamed of it. Once Buffy overcame her anguish at losing Jonathan, the Slayer was sure to come roaring back, hunt down the vampires and finally rid Sunnydale of its most obnoxious denizens of the dark.

Revenge, that would be sweet. Willow even hoped that Buffy would finally put to rest her confusion regarding her feelings for Angel and bring the reign of Angelus to an end. Buffy owed all the Scoobies that much, to Giles and Ms. Calendar . . . and especially to the soul of Johannes Martel.

But here it was three weeks later and Buffy was nowhere to be found. Well not exactly. She was in school everyday, but she never showed up in the morning anymore on the front steps of Sunnydale High. Her meetings with the other Scoobies in the hallways between classes were brief and without comment and her appearances at afternoon training and evening strategy meetings with Giles in the library only sporadic.

But still Willow waited faithfully on the front steps of Sunnydale High. It just couldn't be over, she told herself. She wouldn't let it be. It was not going to end here, not this way. They weren't going to win. She wasn't going to let the bastards win. Willow gritted her teeth, put on the appearance that Xander had respectfully observed as "Willow Tough" and paraded up the front steps to the entrance of Sunnydale High.

Today would be different she promised herself.

So much for promises, Willow thought as she sat in the library that same evening with Giles and Cordelia. As usual, they were all waiting. Willow kept fiddling with her computer keyboard. In disgust she hit the return key over and over, moving aimlessly from link to link on the internet. Once in a while the randomly selected contents of the screen caught her attention and made her gasp.

"Oops!" she said innocently as she closed the offending window but not before she quickly stole a glance at what was on the screen so as not to miss anything "important."

Cordelia, who was seated with her arms crossed in total boredom and staring at the ceiling, glanced over at Willow.

" . . . one of Xander's porn sites . . ." Willow replied apologetically to the silent question voiced by Cordelia's raised eyebrows. Cordelia just huffed while Giles toyed absent mindedly with a book and his ever present glasses. His fussing with his handkerchief and the offending lenses reminded Willow of a neurotic cat that incessantly cleaned itself until much of its fur was licked off leaving only patches of raw skin.

"Giles . . ." Willow said, hoping to spur the distracted librarian into some kind of action.

Before Giles could answer, Xander barged through the doors into the library.

"Sorry I'm late guys," he announced to no one in particular, "But you know my hectic and demanding lifestyle."

"What, locked yourself in the bathroom stall again?" Cordelia said, her voice laced with ice.

Xander made a face at Cordelia.

"Wow, real mature," Willow joined in. She was surprised to find herself siding with Cordelia verbally beating up on Xander, but his flippant attitude this evening really annoyed her.

Xander ignored the insults as he glanced around the room.

"Where's Buffy? Aw, man! She's not here?"

"Giles, this is like the third time this week she hasn't shown," Willow said insistently. "I'm getting really worried. She dodges us in classes during the day. Hardly ever shows up at the Bronze. This is not like Buffy."

"I know," Giles sighed finally having to come to terms with the changes in his Slayer's personality and habits. "We're just lucky it's been quiet these last few weeks since Jonathan . . ."

Giles trailed off, not finishing the sentence, but it was too late. Everyone in the library understood his meaning.

"Well, do we send out the search parties?" Xander suggested after a long silence.

"Once more, into the breach . . ." Giles recited shaking his head.

"Then it's you and me big guy," Xander agreed. "Where first? Her usual favorite hangouts? Cemetery, the mall, funeral home, the Bronze?"

"Buffy is predictable that way," Giles replied, his voice weighed down with resignation. "We'll get together first thing tomorrow morning," he said to Cordelia and Willow.

Xander paraded over to Giles' weapons cabinet. This evening it was unlocked. Giles knew before anyone arrived that the contents would be needed. Xander pulled open the heavy wooden door and withdrew an ax and a plain saber.

"Here's yours," he said calmly as he tossed the saber to Giles. The librarian deftly caught the weapon without missing a beat.

"Me, I like blunt trauma," Xander remarked as he hefted the ax.

"We better get started. Tempus fugit," Giles said.

"Whatever," Xander replied, puzzled by the Latin quote, "Hey Giles, that sounds dirty. If I said that, do you think it would impress girls?"

Giles and Xander turned to leave. As they passed through the library doors, the Watcher cast a glance over his shoulder back at Willow and Cordelia.

"Right," Willow answered without enthusiasm, "We'll take the mall and the Bronze."

Cordelia glared at Willow. The head cheerleader fumed inside at the damage to her reputation if she were seen driving her red convertible with Willow as a passenger.

Before Cordelia could utter the cutting remark her brain was formulating, Willow glared back. She didn't have the time or patience for "pom pom nonsense" right now.

"Deal with it!" she snapped and marched out of the library.

Alone momentarily, Cordelia finally huffed again and, muttering under her breath, followed Willow out to the parking lot.

Buffy moved from stone to stone in the darkness of the cemetery. Although she knew the path well enough, having patrolled it hundreds of times since her arrival in Sunnydale almost two years ago, tonight the Slayer lacked her usual self confidence and bravado. Her steps were tentative as she searched for signs of the undead. She jumped at errant sounds and spun around in a full defensive posture at simple tree shadows. As she had every night for the last three weeks, Buffy imagined all around her the stone carvings were leering and laughing at her as if she were waging an empty crusade to hold back the inevitable powers of death.

She wanted to challenge their arrogance, scream, even punch out every one of the them. They were mocking her, and the stones of the dead shouldn't laugh at a slayer. Vampires were okay since Mr. Pointy was always ready in answer but these unmoving, unfeeling, untouchable monstrosities, they tormented her without mercy, just as if they were Death itself.

"He's ours now," they whispered with the shifting breeze.

"NO!" she shouted back defiantly to the empty darkness, "I won't let you have him!"

A twig snapped. Buffy almost leaped out of her skin as she spun in the direction of the sound. The night paused until Giles, saber firmly in hand, stepped out from behind a tall monument right behind her. Instinctively, Buffy swung at the sound of his footsteps, nearly planting a blow to her Watcher's face. At the last second, Buffy held back when she recognized the distinctive tweed jacket in the dim light of the cemetery.

"Giles, you've got to stop doing that!" Buffy squalled, "One of these days I'm gonna brain you!"

"Buffy, sneaking out without telling your Watcher is a violation of all our agreed upon rules for your safety," Giles lectured.

"Giles! Patrol! DUH! It's what slayers do!" she snapped back, "I'm fine. I know what I'm doing!"

"Buffy, you are not fine. You are an emotional mess!" Giles replied firmly, "I'm not going to mince words here. Ever since Jonathan died you've lost all your focus, and you've continually put yourself at needless risk. If it weren't for Xander keeping an eye on you . . ."

"He's the one that's been following me?" the Slayer stammered in anger, "Listen, you tell that stalker to stop spying on me!"

"Why don't you tell him yourself," Xander said coolly as he stepped out from behind the same stone that had concealed Giles.

Surprised by Xander's sudden appearance, Buffy' mouth dropped open. Quickly she regained her composure.

"Guys, just leave me alone, and let me do my job, okay!"

"No can do, Buff," Xander answered, "This isn't a solo act anymore. You've gotta let your friends help."

"If you're a friend, you'll stay outta my way!" Buffy snarled in a tone Xander had never heard her use before with any of the Scoobies.

As Buffy turned to storm away, she almost stumbled over a modest gravestone blocking her path. This new frustration became the focus of all her pent up anger. She wanted to lash out, scream at the marker, demand that it get out of her way and stop tormenting her. She'd never let It have Jonathan!

He wasn't Theirs, her mind raged, once more encompassing the stones all around her. He was hers! She'd protect Jonathan, just like she promised! Slayers don't break their promises. She hadn't lost him forever! He wasn't Theirs! She wouldn't let Them have him! He wasn't Theirs!

A slight breeze blew stirring up the sound of rustling leaves overhead. Buffy stared at the stone. The brief inscription carved into its unmoveable granite struck her to the heart. Like the descent of a soft spring shower, Buffy's anger washed away into the night and was replaced by an aching sadness that spread across her face. Giles walked up by her side with Xander close behind. All three gazed down at the fresh green sod and newly placed stone of Jenny Calendar.

"Maybe you better call it quits for tonight," Giles said gently after a moment. The only answer was the rush of the breeze through the trees.

"Come on Buffy," Xander said in encouragement, "We still got time to hit the Bronze."

"You know, Giles," Buffy answered after a moment, as much to the darkness as to her Watcher by her side, ". . . sometimes . . . when I come through here at night, I stop and wonder what I'd do . . . if I ran into her."

"You would do what you have to do," Giles answered calmly.

Buffy turned to face Giles who could now see emotions on her face that he hadn't seen in people three times her age.

"How do you deal with this losing someone, Giles?" she said, her voice quivering, "This is my second crash and burn. You'd think I'd have the hang of it by now."

"Buffy, you've gotta knock off the guilt trip," Xander spoke up, hoping a little firmness would bring her back to reality.

"It's not guilt, Xander! " the Slayer lashed out, "It's like such a big empty feeling, but it hurts so bad. . . . It hurts all the time!"

"I know," Giles nodded slightly.

"When I wake up in the morning," Buffy continued, "And I sit up in bed, there's a second or two when I feel great. But then all of a sudden . . . I remember . . . and it all comes crashing back down and starts all over again. Giles, is it ever going to go away?"

"It doesn't. No," Giles replied with a sigh.

Buffy gasped and stared at Giles in disbelief.

"You're supposed to lie, Giles," she said slowly.

Giles put his hands on Buffy's shoulders and turned her to face him.

"Remember what Jonathan said about change," he explained, "Well, over time, much of the pain fades and is replaced by memories . . . mostly the good ones. But it takes a long time."

Xander, embarrassed and hurt by the Slayers' outburst, scuffed his foot on the ground. As Buffy slowly understood what Giles had just said she walked over and stopped directly in front of Xander.

"Xander, I'm sorry," she said quietly as she studied the mark in the dirt where he was scraping his shoe, "You know, you really should hate me."

Xander looked up hopefully at the Slayer.

"It would make it a lot easier," she said trying to show the faintest smile that she hoped wouldn't say too much.

"It's cool, Buff," Xander grinned back, perking up, "It takes more than insults to get rid of me. A punch in the face, maybe. But I haven't gotten fresh yet, so I think I'm on safe ground."

"You're a jerk," Buffy smiled.

"Yeah. Don't ya just love it," Xander cracked without asking for anything in return.

Suddenly, in the distance beyond Jenny Calendar's grave, a faint white glow shown through the stones and shrubs. Instantly Buffy saw it and tensed.

"Giles," she said quietly nodding in the direction of the phenomenon.

"I see it," he answered as all three stared off into the night.

"I better go check this out," Buffy said firmly.

"Okay, we're right behind you," Xander said, gripping his ax with both hands.

"No, you guys hang back," Buffy shook her head as she headed off the path into the depths of the cemetery, "This one is a solo."

Quickly, Buffy swept away into the night in the direction of the flickering light. She took a defensive approach, with fists upraised ready to strike and moving carefully from stone to stone. They didn't taunt her this time but rather seemed to guide her in the direction of what she was seeking. As she drew closer, the light remained faint, never increasing in intensity the nearer she came to the source.

"You think this is smart?" Xander asked Giles with just the slightest trace of sarcasm in his question.

Sensing something more than just what they were seeing, Giles answered as if he were giving his Slayer silent encouragement.

"Smart has nothing to do with it," he said almost in a whisper.

**"If I Should Die Before I Wake"  
Chapter 2  
**by Gaius Petronius

"But in the grey of the morning,  
My mind becomes confused  
Between the dead and the sleeping  
And the road that I must choose."

The Moody Blues, "Question," 1970

"Now I lay me down to sleep,  
I pray the Lord my soul to keep.  
If I should die before I wake,  
I pray the Lord my soul to take."

Anonymous child's prayer

**Chapter 2 - Somewhere . . . between the living and the dead**

Buffy stepped out of the untrimmed brush into a small clearing that spread out at the base of an older, weather worn crypt. She halted abruptly as she stared in front of her at the source of the flickering illumination.

Seated on the rounded and cracked stone steps was a tall young man, his face buried in his hands. His features had no physical substance but their details shimmered in the night like the waving flame of a lone candle. His long brown hair hung to his shoulders and when he looked up his blue eyes pierced out into the darkness.

Buffy gasped as if she had just sunk Mr. Pointy into the vampire chest of someone she knew and loved. She shivered and stepped back for a second. Then a warmth washed over her, a feeling that just three weeks ago she thought she had lost forever.

"Jonathan?" she whispered. The shade looked up and stared around, but his gaze never fell directly on her.

"Buffy?" The word was almost inaudible.

The Slayer saw his lips move but his voice seemed to drift faintly all around her as if it came from no specific direction or location.

"Buffy? Is that you?"

"It's me!" Buffy wanted to shout it, scream it at the night but her words jammed in her throat and came out as a comical squeak.

"I can hardly hear you," Jonathan said as he searched back and forth, "Where are you?" Buffy realized his words didn't match the movement of his lips like there was a time lag from the moment he spoke them until they reached her. She imagined they must be crossing vast distances separating two universes or realms of reality.

Buffy stepped closer. She could see his face more clearly. It was pale, his hair disheveled and, with the exception of his sharp blue eyes, his whole figure appeared virtually translucent. She could also see his expression which cut to the quick of her soul.

The impish grin was gone. The quizzical smile she remembered from when he was totally clueless following the Scoobies through the hallways of Sunnydale High, of that there was no trace either. She had only seen this look on his face once before. It was the time in the library when Willow found the fragmentary chronicle on the internet relating the horrors of the plague outbreak in the capital of the Holy Roman Empire. There he had struggled using his telekinetic powers in a futile battle to hold back the ravages of the disease in others until he himself finally fell as a victim.

Buffy had prayed that she would never have to gaze on that expression again, that pain that reached across the centuries. Now she had to do something. Slowly she approached the apparition until she stood directly before him.

"Jonathan," she said mustering her Slayer's strength for a challenge she had never faced, "You can't see me, can you."

The flickering image stood up and shook his head. He glanced back and forth, still trying to find the source of Buffy's voice.

"I'm right in front of you," she said softly, "Hold out your hands."

Jonathan lifted his hands out with the palms up. Gently Buffy placed hers on top of his. As she bent her fingers to embrace his hands, her flesh passed silently into the formless apparition. Buffy halted immediately. She felt a tingling in her fingers.

Jonathan instantly looked up at her.

"It is you!" he whispered, and Buffy saw the light in his eyes. Hope, and her soul soared at what she felt.

"Hey, Couz," she replied as her eyes glistened.

"You're right here?" he asked as he stared unknowing directly at her.

"Yeah," she replied as she bit her lip and tried to hold back the flood of emotions. "Now bend down."

Slowly the apparition leaned forward. Buffy turned her face up to meet him. Her lips brushed against his and she moved them back and forth. Although there was no physical presence, she drank in the tingling sensation as her lips passed through the flickering light. She breathed in hard, drawing what she knew must be the exhalations of his soul and then exhaled in a rush desperately passing back hers to him across the vast emptiness separating them.

The flickering shade of Jonathan Martel closed his eyes as his lips moved back and forth matching the rhythm of hers. He breathed in deeply at the same time. For a brief second he believed he could see her form reaching out past the void, her face up against his, her hands firmly grasping him. But the sensation passed quickly.

Buffy opened her eyes and pulled her face back. The tingling of her hands clasped in his suddenly vanished.

"Buffy?" he cried out.

"I'm still here!" she replied as firmly as she could. "Jonathan, we're going to get you back! Where are you?"

"You have to help me!" he exclaimed, his voice trembling, as if he hadn't heard her. "I'm trapped somewhere . . . somewhere in between."

"I'm losing you!" Buffy shouted in a building panic as she realized his form was now dissipating.

"I don't know where I am!" he continued and Buffy could sense the desperation and despair from before, "It changes from place to place! Now it's the cemetery, only I can't see anyone!"

"Jonathan!" Buffy exclaimed, "You have to stay with me! I'm going to help you! I promise! We're going to get you back!"

And then Jonathan's words from out of the void separating them caused Buffy to gasp and her mind freeze.

"I'm trapped in between, somewhere between the living and the dead! You have to free me! You have to let me go! Drusilla has. . ." suddenly his rapid flow of words became garbled as the sound drifted.

"Drusilla! What about Drusilla! Has she got you? What is she doing to you!" Buffy suddenly shouted. Her voice rose in frustration at her inability to hear him, "Jonathan! You've got to slow down! I can't understand you!"

Jonathan's voice ceased for a moment and then resumed, breaking the silence.

"I love you, Buffy," the words though faint, were clear.

"That I got," she replied slowly and said it even though she knew he probably couldn't hear her, "Me, too. I miss you so much."

"You must let me go," his voice whispered as his head bowed under the weight of a pain Buffy couldn't even imagine.

Suddenly the faint light in the clearing before the crypt blinked out.

"Jonathan? Jonathan!"

Darkness swept in around the Slayer. From their vantage point back at Jenny Calender's grave, Giles and Xander heard voices and saw the light vanish.

"Look! It's gone," the Watcher exclaimed.

"I say we send in the cavalry!" Xander shouted as he dashed impulsively in the direction Buffy had taken. Both broke into a run towards the crypt. Within seconds they crashed through the thick brush.

They found Buffy standing alone, sharing the clearing with only the shadows of the night and the ever present stones. Her gaze rested on an empty spot at the foot of the worn steps.

"Are you all right?" Giles asked her gently.

"What was it, Buff?" Xander added without waiting for the answer.

"He was here," the Slayer muttered at the darkness, "It was Jonathan."

"What?" Xander replied, not quite certain that the Slayer was entirely coherent.

"He was here, Giles," she said, at the same time drawing in a deep breath, "I saw him. And he was trying to tell me something about Drusilla."

"Are you sure it was Jonathan you saw, Buffy?" Giles asked, his voice laced with skepticism, "This place can play tricks on the mind, and that which appears before us may disguise itself to be what we seek in our hearts."

"Giles! Jonathan was here!" the Slayer snapped, "He was begging me to free him! Something about Drusilla holding him prisoner. Could she do that?"

"I'm not sure I understand," Giles stammered as he ran his hand through the curly hair across the top of his head.

"Giles," Buffy tried to explain and her voice rose with her building emotions, "Jonathan said 'I'm trapped somewhere between the living . . . and the dead!'"

"Easy, Buffy!" Xander said calmly as he placed his hand on her shoulder. Buffy turned to him.

"We're going to find him," Xander firmly answered the question in her glistening eyes. Silently, Xander offered her every ounce of strength he could muster. It may have been nothing in comparison to that endowed to a Slayer, but he was letting her know it was hers. No matter what, it always would be.

Buffy briefly placed her hand atop Xander's that was resting on her shoulder.

"You're always here . . . at my side," she said sadly.

"I always will be," he answered her as he turned to Giles, "G-man, we're gonna need some answers here."

"But, that can't be done," Giles muttered, now clearly agitated, "No one knows the spells for reanimation. They've been lost for centuries."

"That didn't stop Willow from materializing Jonathan back in the library," Xander said, emphasizing what he thought was the obvious.

"What are you babbling about Giles?" Buffy exclaimed, "If it was spells, Jonathan knew them all!"

"It was the book . . . " Giles rambled on, still running his hand through his hair, "Willow channeled the book. The damn book they stole! His notebook!"

"Giles! What's going down here?" Buffy shouted trying to attract her Watcher's attention.

"Jonathan! In the warehouse! How could I be so stupid! Buffy! The warehouse . . . we must get there NOW!"

Giles spun immediately and burst in a sprint for the exit of the cemetery. Buffy and Xander followed in pursuit, struggling to keep up, but Giles remained well out in front, running faster than they ever imagined he could.

Giles' beat up Citroen, heading in the direction of rundown industrial district, careened wildly through the streets of downtown Sunnydale. Finally the clunky French automobile screeched to a stop, skidding up against the curb with a slam in front of the deserted warehouse where Buffy and Jonathan confronted Drusilla and the Ancient One just three weeks ago. Giles leaped out and scrambled towards the warehouse door with Xander and Buffy close behind. Xander fumbled with a flashlight and struggled to direct the light so as to illuminate the path before them.

Giles, his shadow dancing crazily in the flashlight beam, swept up to the front of the building. Not even pausing to determine whether the door was locked, he planted a furious kick mid level on the wooden paneling, sending the door flying open on squealing hinges. As he plunged inside, Xander quickly looked at Buffy.

"I thought that was your deal," he cracked.

"He taught it to me," Buffy replied as she followed Giles inside.

Wildly casting obstacles out of his way, Giles strode across the wreckage on the main floor of the warehouse. He was making for the doorway that led to the lower chamber where Drusilla had set up the altar to raise up Yogsothoth. Buffy was right on his coat tails and Xander, struggling to keep the flashlight beam pointed directly ahead, floundered in last place.

"Giles!" she called out to him.

Her Watcher paid no attention as he reached the doorway to the chamber and began the descent in darkness. Xander nervously noted the once fresh corpse that had swung so freely beyond the vampire's banquet table, hung there still, now shriveled in decay, gently swinging on the edge of the shadows.

"Don't look," Buffy called over her shoulder.

"Too late!" Xander gagged as he attempted to redirect his attention and the flashlight down the looming stairway.

"You're not gonna hurl are you?" Buffy asked nervously as Xander hovered a little too close for comfort behind her as they clomped down the metal stairs to the lower chamber after Giles.

"The Xandman lose cookies?" Xander answered as if it were an insult, "No way! Nerves of steel! Stomach of iron! Eat the cafeteria food everyday!"

"Good!" Buffy replied over the clattering of their feet on the metal stairs, "I just remember that time you ate all the hot dogs and cotton candy and then went on the Tilt-a-Whirl with Willow and . . ."

"Shut up, Buffy!" Xander gagged again as the memory brought on another digestive spasm.

At the bottom of the staircase, Giles forced open the heavy lower chamber door. Scattered around were overturned chairs, broken tables, trampled party streamers and the remnants of the altar and the command stone that Jonathan smashed when he had destroyed the Ancient One.

Without hesitation, Giles ran to the corner of the chamber where Jonathan had finally died and his body had turned to dust. Giles stopped and stared at the floor. Buffy and Xander finally caught up with him.

"Giles! What's with the Sunnydale marathon?" Xander half gasped and gagged at the same time as he struggled to rid himself of the memory of the fateful Tilt-a-Whirl incident.

"We're too late," Giles announced, his voice hollow.

Buffy followed her Watcher's gaze to the point on the floor where Jonathan's body turned to dust. She dreaded what she would see, the light coating of dust spread across the concrete where she had last held Jonathan in her arms. In surprise she suddenly realized she felt nothing. She squinted in the wavering beam of Xander's flashlight. The floor had been swept clean.

"I don't get it?" Xander quipped at the Slayer's side, "Since when do vampires do house work?"

"That was her plan all along!" Giles moaned to himself as he clenched his fists, "How could I have been so stupid not to see it! This is the worst mistake I've ever made as a Watcher!"

"Giles! This is your Slayer calling," Buffy interrupted, "You have to share what's going on here!"

"It's horrible in its simplicity and it's all my fault," Giles said in despair as he faced Buffy, "Drusilla destroyed Jonathan, took his dust and reanimated his body and mind using Jonathan's own spells from the second notebook. But what she did not do was restore the third part of the equation, his soul! That's what you saw in the cemetery!"

"Giles! Calm down!" Xander exclaimed, hoping to stop Giles from revealing details that he was afraid would hurt Buffy even more, "Let's just take a deep breath here, do something very un-Sunnydale, be rational about this thing and . . ."

"No," Buffy said firmly as she held her hand up at Xander to stop, "Giles, you have to tell me what the deal is. The real deal."

"By eliminating the ethical restraint of the soul," Giles continued as clinically as possible, "Drusilla now has control of Jonathan's body, his mind, his knowledge, his telekinetic powers, all the incredible forces and spells that he had at his command!"

Xander felt his stomach turn again.

"My God, she could reopen the Hellmouth!" Giles muttered to the darkness around them, "She could accomplish what not even the Master was able to do!"

Buffy was silent as the horror of what had actually happened that night three weeks ago sank in.

"But Giles," Xander protested, "Jonathan would never do anything . . ."

"It's not Jonathan, Xander! There's no soul!"

Buffy shuddered at the finality of Giles' words. She couldn't think. She had promised she would help him, but she just couldn't think. All she could see was the look in his eyes in those last moments in the cemetery where he had begged her to save him from . . .

. . . lost somewhere between the living and the dead . . . she couldn't think. All she knew was she had promised to save him.

"Giles . . .?" Buffy asked, fearing what she would hear, "What do we have to do?"

She knew the answer. It was her lover's own words, "what we have to do."

"Since we're probably too late to stop Drusilla from raising Jonathan up, we must reverse the spells. We have no choice . . ." Giles answered slowly.

Buffy's eyes widened in anguish.

". . . we have to put him back down . . . we must destroy him."

**"If I Should Die Before I Wake"  
**by Gaius Petronius

DISCLAIMER:  
Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all the characters that appear on the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, the WB, Fox and Mutant Enemy, Inc. I only borrow them, mess with their heads, make them cry and, every once in a while, torture them. I do lay claim to the character of Johannes Martel since he is the central character in an original novel I've been working on now for too many years.

Spoilers: BtVS season two. Originally written in script format during the spring of 1998, "If I should die before I wake" is the sequel to my first Buffy novel, "Carpe Diem."

Rating: R for violence, language and a sexual "situation."

"But in the grey of the morning,  
My mind becomes confused  
Between the dead and the sleeping  
And the road that I must choose."

The Moody Blues, "Question," 1970

"Now I lay me down to sleep,  
I pray the Lord my soul to keep.  
If I should die before I wake,  
I pray the Lord my soul to take."

Anonymous child's prayer

**Chapter 3 - The Shell**

Spike was tired of rolling his wheelchair from hideout to hideout. Abandoned warehouses weren't exactly his taste in lairs (the handicap access was limited to the loading docks) but Drusilla took a shine to their cavernous interiors. Of course it was necessary to pack up after the miserable Slayer and her Scoobies broke up the raising of the Ancient One three weeks ago. He, Drusilla and Angelus couldn't live in Warehouse #3 anymore. After Drusilla's latest "party," the place was a total wreck, plus they couldn't have the Slayer just dropping in anytime after what they did to her latest boyfriend. Also there was the possibility that her Watcher might go "pyro" again. That stupid Angelus had to start an all out war by killing the Watcher's sweetie just for the thrill of it. Angelus never had a drop of sense anyway and was always acting out his Slayer inspired frustrations.

Spike sighed. He did miss the large ornate banquet table they had salvaged from the Sunnydale landfill. It had plenty of room to spread out bodies for feasting and the nineteenth century carving was just suggestive enough to make Drusilla squeal every time she looked at it. No one made those kind of noises like his Dru. That table really did it for her, not like the late twentieth century particle board piece of corporate crap they were stuck with now.

The new lair was in an empty series of industrial offices that were much smaller than the buildings in the warehouse block. No towering ceilings that Drusilla loved because of the way strung up bodies swung majestically from the rafters. This was once a modest sized meeting or conference room. Although the table was junk, the room itself was more to Spike's taste, comfortable, open, easy to maneuver about in the wheelchair. The rest of the furniture was relatively decent quality, the walls adorned with several tasteful if slightly kinky original Dali lithographs. There was even a closed liquor cabinet that Spike quickly unlocked with the deft swing of an ax.

Clearly the business crowd that ran this operation had packed up and left in a hurry - or been forced out in a "corporate takeover." From a quick perusal of scattered sheets of the company Secretary's minutes, Spike realized that these bigwigs had bled the operation dry, in more ways than just financial. Then upon closer examination of a shareholder's list, Spike stopped and whistled. He recognized half a dozen serious demon names from his less reputable haunts in Los Angeles.

Spike glanced down at the dusty carpet and noticed the scattered blood stains and several chunks of human hair yanked out by the scalp. He wouldn't have minded being a fly on the wall for that last management/shareholder meeting. The vampire smiled and nodded.

"You blokes got what was coming to ya," he muttered amused, "Serves you right for peeing off the shareholders."

Spike redirected his attention to Drusilla who stood by the center of the long conference table. Several old volumes lay open in front of her. One was the stolen notebook of Johannes Martel. A modern white sheet of paper, covered in scribbles, sat on top of the books. Two massive burning candles in large gaudy brass candle holders were placed at either end of the table, and a curious cobalt blue open jar filled with what appeared to be dust sat midway between them. Drusilla, her arms upraised as if in the middle of an incantation, swayed back and forth, her gyrations matching the flickering of the candle flames.

As he gazed at her seductively sliding mid-section, Spike nodded his head as he admitted to himself that he always liked the way Drusilla swayed. It was one of the rewards for catering to her sometimes "off" desires and whims.

It had been a risk to sneak back to the old warehouse to collect the dust of Johannes Martel, but Drusilla had a plan for the young telekinetic who had briefly been the Slayer's lover. Even though he rolled his eyes at the thought of one of Dru's "plans," Spike realized this one might have the possibility of stirring up some entertaining action. And anything to do with a new love for the Slayer would annoy the hell out of Angelus.

That was really why Spike was helping Drusilla raise the dust of what was clearly a dangerous telekinetic, or "wizard" as they used to call them in the older times. It was bound to piss off Angelus, and that was always good for a lark.

Sitting in his wheelchair beside Drusilla, Spike waited patiently. Angelus stood separately in the corner of the room and silently snickered at the performance. There was a dead stillness as Drusilla wiggled and waited in anticipation for something to happen. Nothing did. She suddenly screamed and, in a fury, swept the Martel notebook, the other volumes and the paper off onto the floor.

"Dru . . . temper," Spike said soothingly.

"Bad bastard Wizard!' Drusilla howled, "He did something to the spells! I know it!"

"Dru, maybe it's just one enormous joke by your wiz friend," Angelus smiled sarcastically, "It's been over two hundred years."

"No! I know they work!" Drusilla screamed. She then looked down tearfully and shuddered, "He tried to use them on me!"

"Dru," Spike said with just a touch of disapproval in his voice as if he were disciplining a spoiled child, "You remember what we agreed about bad memories?"

"We don't talk about them," she pouted.

"You've been at this for three weeks now," Spike rolled his wheelchair up closer to her, "Let me look at the spells and see if I can find any mistakes."

"No!" Drusilla snapped insulted, "I know my reading and writing!"

"Dru, you haven't cracked a book in two centuries!" Angelus smirked.

"Dru, darling," Spike said reassuringly as he ignored Angelus, "The wizard will be all yours when you raise him up. And then if you want you can share him. But we're not getting anywhere this way."

"All right, Spike," Drusilla nodded with a scowl.

"Angelus, hand me the paper," Spike said, indicating the modern paper covered in Drusilla's scribbles that had fallen to the floor out of Spike's reach.

Angelus stared back at Spike in mock astonishment.

"You want me to wait on you! Oh, yeah, that's right. Anything for a member of the family."

Angelus slunk out of his corner, picked up the piece of paper with the spells on it and handed it towards Spike. At the last second before Spike could take the sheet in his hand, Angelus deliberately let it slide out of his fingers. He smiled as he watched the paper flutter back to the floor at Spike's feet and swaggered back to his corner. Glaring, Spike bent down from the wheelchair and swept up Drusilla's spells.

". . . funny . . ." Spike growled through gritted teeth.

"All the time," Angelus grinned maliciously.

Challenging Angelus wasn't worth the energy at this point, so Spike turned his attention to the sheet of transcribed spells. He started reading silently, then stopped and gave a little smirk. Realizing Drusilla was watching his every move, Spike quickly controlled himself. This was going to be delicate.

"Here's a tiny problem, Darling," he said gently as he wiggled his finger for her to join him with the sheet of paper.

"What?" Drusilla said nervously.

"See this little word here," he explained carefully as Drusilla gazed over his shoulder, "It's supposed to be 'firmus.' You've got 'fimus.'"

"Doesn't make much difference does it?" Drusilla pouted again.

Spike sighed.

"Only that instead of calling upon the universe's 'strong powers,' you're calling upon its 'dung powers.'"

Angelus, who has been grinning through the entire explanation, suddenly burst out laughing.

"Daddy should stop laughing at me!" Drusilla whined.

"Angelus, it's difficult enough as it is . . ." Spike glowered.

"Sorry, I'll be good," Angelus snickered as he covered his mouth with his hand.

"Now we just make that little change . . ." Spike said, returning his attention to the spell.

In the corner, Angelus broke into another howl of laughter..

"I can't believe for three weeks she's been chanting to the forces of the Universe to pour down upon us their Celestial Manure!"

"Angelus!" Spike snarled. Between the two of them, the raising was going to take forever at this rate.

"I wondered why nobody was curbing their dogs when I'd go out for dinner. Ruined three pairs of shoes since Thursday!" Angelus dissolved into giggles.

"The joke is getting really old, Angelus!" Spike answered sarcastically then turned to Drusilla, "Ignore him, Darling. Now are we ready to try again?"

Drusilla nodded sheepishly.

"All right, then," Spike nodded, "Let's tidy up first."

Drusilla scooped up an armful of books off the floor and rearranged them on the table. Angelus, arms crossed on his chest, slouched against the wall in the corner and made no effort to help. Drusilla realigned the two brass candlesticks with the cobalt blue glass container between them.

"Go ahead, Dru darling," Spike nodded appreciatively, "You can start."

Drusilla smiled a crooked grin, displaying her yellow teeth. She took her place at the center of the table between the two candles and raised her arms in supplication over the jar containing the dust. Slowly, she began to chant. Spike winced at the occasional mispronounced word.

"Vires firmi obscuritatis, audi me!  
(Strong powers of Darkness, hear me!)  
Vires firmi occulti mundi, audi me!  
(Strong powers of the Universe, hear me!)  
Renova pulvis in forma proprii!  
(Recreate this dust in its original form!)  
Surge! Sta! Vive! Iube te!  
(Rise, stand and live! I command you!)"

There was a moment of silence during which Angelus almost broke out into another fit of laughter. Suddenly the sound of rushing air swept through the conference room although no wind affected the candles. The dust in the jar began to stir and glow with a faint blue light. Gradually the particles whirled upwards in a murky cloud. The glow from the spinning fragments illuminated the room. More quickly now, the surging dust coalesced into a standing human form that shivered and twisted as it came together. Drusilla squealed with excitement while Spike nodded his approval.

After several minutes, the transformation was complete. As the wind vanished away, the resurrected body collapsed inert. It lay sprawled naked across the conference table and then slid off onto the floor. The room was silent for a moment more.

"Sloppy entrance but serves the purpose," Spike said as he scratched the back of his head.

Angelus was no longer laughing. At first he cowered in his corner. Then, his face marked with fear, Angelus rushed over and stared at the naked form lying before them. He nudged the body with his foot to see if there was any reaction.

"I presume that's him," Spike said nonchalantly to Drusilla.

"Ohh, Yes!" Drusilla clapped her hands and trembled with excitement as she swept down beside the body. Angelus tapped the pale flesh with his foot again. When nothing happened, in evil glee, he landed a furious kick into the body's midsection.

"Daddy! NO!" Drusilla squalled.

"Ah, ah, ah, Angelus, no damaging the merchandise," Spike said waggling his finger.

"He's all mine again!" Drusilla shouted with glee as she straddled the body beneath her. She bent down and licked the upper torso and neck furiously like a mother cat stimulating the life in a new born kitten.

The body lay still on the floor beneath her gyrating hips. Spike rolled his eyes in disgust and sighed.

"Spike, something's wrong!" Drusilla suddenly howled as she sat back up. She crawled off and knelt on the floor. Sadly she poked the white flesh with her finger.

"He's not moving!" she whimpered.

"Dru, darling, this is only part one," Spike explained patiently, "What we have is just a body, the shell. The burning candles and the spell will keep it from disintegrating again. We still have to raise up the mind to get access to his powers and knowledge."

"You mean he didn't feel my little greeting just now?" Angelus asked.

"Like kicking Play Dough," Spike grinned back. He then spoke slowly for emphasis so that not a word would be lost on the vampire, "You need part three to feel pain . . . the soul. You should know that by now, Angelus."

"Aw, man!" Angelus snarled and stormed out of the room.

"Spike? Can we raise up his mind now?" Drusilla cooed as she ran her fingers across the naked torso, "Can we please? Please?"

"Of course, Dru. Anything you like," Spike smiled evilly as he stared at the body on the floor, "See how easy it is . . . if you just ask nicely."

**Chapter 4 - "If only . . ."**

_Country song lyrics are from "Bells" by Jimmy Rankin and the Rankin Family_

Buffy was late again the next morning and skipped the Scooby meeting on the front steps of Sunnydale High. Xander found her seated in one of the hallway lounge sofas after first period. She stared off into space and barely acknowledged his presence. He could tell she was still wrestling in her mind with the previous night's events in the cemetery and especially with what the two of them and Giles had found in Warehouse #3.

Xander couldn't deal with the way she was acting. He understood it. He just couldn't stand it. This fit of the broody moodies was as bad if not worse than when Angel dumped her after their one nighter. In Xander's mind, there was no difference between Angel and Angelus. One was nastier, true, and would snap any Scooby neck as soon as look at it. But to Xander it was still Angel who had used Buffy and thrown her away.

He never would have done that to her, he thought. She was Buffy, LA hottie, funny and just perfect. Well not exactly perfect considering her taste in men but still, in Xander's eyes, there was no one at Sunnydale High, not even sex goddess Cordelia Chase, who could come even close to her.

Never in a million years would he have walked out on Buffy. She was, well, . . . Buffy. He wasn't sure exactly what he was feeling but this was Buffy and he knew, no matter what, he would stand beside her. He might screw up, say or do stupid things, but dump her after making love to her? The thoughts were incomprehensible, both the dumping and the making love and not in that order. His mind wandered to the words of a secret favorite country song that not even Willow had ever caught him listening to,

"If only you would love me,  
Bells would ring,  
And voices silent for a thousand years,  
Suddenly could sing.  
And the heart of a bandit,  
would surely vanish without a clue.  
And the world would go on turning,  
My darling, if only you . . ."

Rather he'd snatch up the nearest sword, leap into the thick of the battle, dust vamp after vamp and finally fall, run through on the weapons of the hoards overwhelming them, all of it to protect Buffy. If only . . .

He would do anything for her . . . always. There was no demon, spell, or multi topping pizza in Sunnydale much less Southern California that would ever get him to leave her after . . . Xander shook his head. He had to stop fantasizing like this. After all, this morning, Buffy needed him. That was the real thing, here, right now.

He had to get her attention and cheer her up. That was all that mattered.

"Maybe you should watch more television," he said, at the same time realizing the joke was a lame one, "They say it's great for neutralizing brain cells."

Buffy just glanced at Xander and smiled weakly.

"Aw come on Buff! This is Xander Harris you're blowing off here!" he exclaimed, trying the firmer but still kidding approach, "You know, the guy that wiped out on his skateboard first time he saw you!"

Something in Xander's voice reached out, and Buffy remembered her first morning at Sunnydale High. She looked at Xander affectionately.

"Seems so long ago," she sighed, then resumed staring straight ahead.

"You gotta have a little faith," Xander said, going for the slight opening, "Giles is putting in overtime on it right now. I know he didn't leave last night. If there's anyway to help Jonathan, he'll find it."

"I know he's trying," Buffy replied, still despairing, "But if Drusilla can control Jonathan, then she can open the Hellmouth. That's what we have to worry about."

"No Buff!" Xander answered and the firmness in his voice, reinforced by unquestioned belief, made her look back at him, "This is not about the Hellmouth. This is about Jonathan. When we rescue him, the Hellmouth problem is solved, right?"

As he gazed at her, despite his best efforts, the country song danced in his head while his fantasy ran wild.

"If only you would notice,  
grass would grow again.  
And all the leaves that have fallen,  
would blow away in the wind.  
And the sun would shine forever  
all the flowers would blossom and bloom.  
Even I could face the morning,  
My darling if only you . . ."

Buffy stared at Xander and the gift he was offering her. She saw it in his rich brown eyes, and it was hers unconditionally. She realized she did love Xander. Not the way he wanted her to, but in a manner just as deep and possibly more long lasting. She prayed he would understand some day. She took his gift and held it close to her heart.

"Am I right?" he nudged her shoulder playfully.

"Yeah . . . right. Come 'ere," Buffy replied nodding as she reached out, wrapped her arms around Xander and gave him a Slayer squeeze with just a little extra strength. Xander squeaked as the pressure of her arms and chest against his ribs forced him to exhale briefly.

"Thanks," she whispered in his ear in almost a kiss and released her hug, "Once in a while you know the right thing to say to a girl."

"Wow!" Xander caught his breath, "Was this, like, a real communication moment?"

"Yeah, . . . I think so," Buffy nodded partly to herself and partly to Xander at her side.

"But I still can't get fresh?" Xander grinned.

"Nah!" Buffy smiled back. She realized he had done what he intended. He had broken her blue funk, and she was grateful.

"Okay, just checking," Xander said as he glanced down the hallway, "Uh, you seen Cordy anywhere this morning?"

"So much for the moment!" Buffy laughed, rolling her eyes.

Buffy stood up and headed down the hallway to class. Midway there, Butch Michalski, captain of the football team, barged in front of Buffy blocking her path.

"Hey, Summers, how ya doing?"

"Michalski, could you let me by?" Buffy huffed. This was not the first time he had tried to back her into a corner. "I gotta get to class," she said carefully so that he understood.

"In a sec," he ignored her protest, "Listen, you're sorta free right now. I mean, you're not seeing that Angel dude anymore and your cousin's back in Europe."

Buffy tensed up. She took a deep breath and composed herself.

"Well, you and me could go out tonight. I know a couple of bars where they'll serve anybody."

"Thanks, Michalski, but I don't think so," Buffy said, struggling to remain civil, "I sorta want to be on my own for awhile now."

"Doesn't stop ya from hanging out with that Harris loser," Michalski grinned sarcastically as he thumbed down the hallway in the direction of Xander.

Buffy bit her lip slightly and prayed she wasn't turning red with fury.

"Xander's just a good friend . . . and we don't go out," she immediately regretted putting it that way.

"Listen, Summers, let's skip class and go out to my car and talk about it." Michalski pressed in closer.

"No way," she said firmly, "I got enough problems in history without anymore cuts." Walk away now, her mind said.

Buffy turned but Michalski grabbed her shoulder and restrained her. "Don't hit him!" her mind screamed. "All you gotta do is deck the captain of the football team and it's suspension for sure!"

"Come on, Summers!" and his fingers dug deep into the flesh of her shoulder.

Suddenly from out of nowhere, a third body shoved itself between Buffy and the football player. Xander who had stopped for one last quick glance at the Slayer, barged between Buffy and Michalski, breaking his hold on Buffy.

"Hey! You got ears to go with that nose, Michalski?" Xander shouted with as much bravado as he could muster, "She said 'No!'" This wasn't exactly in his fantasy. Somehow the six foot two inch, two hundred pound linebacker seemed scarier than the vampires Xander was planning to dust in defense of Buffy. This involved real pain.

"Listen, you little creep," Michalski growled as he towered over Xander, "You stay outta my social life or I'll make you a soprano for the rest of yours!"

"Oh yeah! And I'll bite your beautiful nose off!"

Not exactly a Xander super witty but it did get Michalski pissed. He grabbed Xander by the collar, picked him up and threw him against the lockers on the wall. Xander hit the metal with a bang at the same time as he struggled to land a punch on Michalski, missing hopelessly. Michalski pulled Xander up to his feet and was about to plant a fist in Xander's mid section when Buffy seized the football player's arm and twisted it around behind his back. She knew her face was red because she turned the heavy wrist in her grip hard and in a direction it was not meant to go.

She didn't care. Screw suspension. This was Xander.

"Ow! Geez Summers!" Michalski howled.

"Stop this NOW!" the piercing command of Principal Snyder caused the gathering crowd of students to scatter.

Buffy instantly released Michalski who doubled up clutching his arm.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Summers!" he whined.

"Shut up, Michalski!" Principal Snyder shouted in disgust, "Did she hurt you?"

"No!" Michalski replied as if the question were an insult which it was," OW!" he howled again as he tried to move his wrist.

"Stop whining and get to the Nurse's office!" Snyder didn't have time for a pain sensitive athlete. He had more important issues to deal with. In particular, there was Buffy Summers who finally was right where he wanted her.

"Principal Snyder, let me explain," Buffy cried out but she realized resistance was futile.

"I'm not interested in explanations!" Snyder exclaimed with relish, "Harris!"

"Yeah, I know the drill," Xander nodded in resignation, "Two weeks detention."

"Get outta here and get to class!"

Xander shuffled down the hallway. As he was about to disappear into the surging crowds of students, he cast a look back over his shoulder at Buffy. She was watching him and mouthed a single word.

"Thanks," her lips said silently.

Xander saw it, smiled and now relished the pain spreading across his bruised back muscles from the impact against the lockers. He sauntered off to class, a little bounce in his step, all the while whistling his country music.

"If the war we've been living  
would cease to be. Let us live again,  
And the chains that have held us,  
would break away and set us free,  
then my heart like an eagle,  
would fly away into the blue.  
Close the book, quietly disappear,  
My darling if only you . . ."

"Summers!" Snyder bellowed, "My office! Now!"

Buffy strode down the hall with Principal Snyder following close behind. She knew he finally had her. Other students stared at her passing by as if she were a condemned prisoner heading for the gallows. As she glanced up she realized the look on her face said only one thing.

"Shit, this is it. All over. Suspension, here I come."

**Chapter 5 - A Little Slack**

Buffy hesitantly stepped over to the chair in front of Principal Snyder's desk and sat down. Although she had been through this routine in his office what seemed like dozens of times before, she wondered whether this would be the last. Snyder strode to the rear of his desk, put his hands behind his back and stalked to and fro. There was an awkward pause.

"Principal Snyder, I can explain what happened out in the hallway. See, Xander was only . . ."

Snyder held up his hand at Buffy in a gesture commanding her to be silent as he continued pacing.

"Ms. Summers, your behavior of the past few weeks has been even more . . . erratic . . . than usual."

Snyder glanced up at Buffy and relished the panic he saw spreading across her face. It was so rare that he could savor such an obvious victory in his daily struggles to contain the savage youth of southern California. It was such a shame that moments like this one were so transitory. Something always had to interfere.

"Although I have waited in eager anticipation for an incident of violent behavior on your part so that I may remove your loathsome presence from Sunnydale High once and for all, unfortunately certain foolish regulations promulgated by the State Board of Education require that I conduct a family background inquiry on students subject to suspension."

Buffy's ears perked. The downward spiral towards her suspension from school suddenly appeared to come to a halt. There was a wild card in the deck somewhere and somehow she had it. She listened intently, realizing that she would probably have to think on her feet, a skill she had never mastered and hated worse than surprise birthday parties.

"Therefore, I took the liberty of consulting with Mr. Giles yesterday," Snyder continued, frustration seething beneath his cold exterior, "And he informed me about what happened to your cousin."

Buffy's mouth dropped open. Her mind floundered in confusion as she struggled to figure out what her Watcher could have possibly told Snyder.

"Please accept my condolences on his passing . . . what was his name, uh Jonathan. I can see how it must have been quite a shock, him dying in an auto accident just after getting back to Europe. I know you two became close while he was visiting."

Buffy's face displayed a bizarre mixture of shock and relief. Snyder eyed her change in expression.

"Uh, yeah . . . right," she stammered, "It was pretty terrible."

"That's why I'm required to cut you a little slack right now," Snyder said suspiciously as his scam radar signaled wildly.

"But I want you to see the guidance counselor. She's trained in grief therapy," he said as he plotted mentally how to convince the counselor to permit him access to the interview transcripts. What the hell, he'd just let himself into the office and steal them.

"Yes, sir," Buffy nodded, waiting for the opportunity to make a break for it. She then stared down at the floor. Snyder halted his pacing and leaned across his desk as he glowered directly at Buffy.

"Ms. Summers . . .? Do you have anything you want to tell me?"

Buffy looked up at Snyder. She didn't know why she answered the way she did. Xander of all people always told her to keep her mouth shut at times like this. Maybe it was the stress of the past three weeks or maybe the impact of Jonathan's death was finally settling in and the good memories were just beginning to get the upper hand like Giles said they would.

"No . . . " she answered slowly with a quite sadness, "Well, just . . . I miss him."

The impact on Snyder was immediate as if Buffy had tossed a bomb in front of his desk. Sunnydale High's chief administrator, for once, was caught speechless. Sincere emotion cut through his cold armor like a blow torch on poorly cast cheap white metal.

"I'm sorry. I understand," he sputtered and then blurted out something that he swore he had never said before, "If you'd like to be excused from class for the rest of the day . . ."

Buffy stared back in surprise at Snyder. She was equally as bewildered, first by her confession and second by its impact on the hard nosed principal. Then she caught sight of the glare from his balding forehead and saw the glow. He was sweating! She actually had him sweating. Realizing the magnitude of the advantage she had suddenly obtained, Buffy quickly decided on another curve ball.

"That's okay," she said quickly, "I gotta make up too much history already."

Buffy immediately hopped up to leave the office but stopped on the brink of the doorway. She turned around to look back at Principal Snyder and used the sincere tone for one final verbal assault.

"Thank you," she said softly and her eyes sparkled.

"Go to class, Ms. Summers," he replied, desperately struggling to retain the cool exterior covering his mounting bewilderment.

Buffy left the office and breathed a sigh of relief as she ran down the hallway to escape. Back inside, Principal Snyder crossed his arms on his chest and then ran one hand across his slick forehead. Somehow she had gotten away. He had the insufferable Summers girl in the palm of his hand, and she had slipped loose and gotten away again.

"What the hell just happened here!" he exclaimed to himself.


	2. Part 2 I could ever sleep again

"If I should die before I wake" - Part 2 _by  
Gaius Petronius_

DISCLAIMER:  
Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all the characters that appear on the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, the WB, Fox and Mutant Enemy, Inc. I only borrow them, mess with their heads, make them cry and, every once in a while, torture them. I do lay claim to the character of Johannes Martel since he is the central character in an original novel I've been working on now for too many years.

Spoilers: BtVS season two. Originally written in script format during the spring of 1998, "If I should die before I wake" is the sequel to my first BtVS novel, "Carpe Diem."

Rating: T for violence and language.

**Chapter 6 - "I could ever sleep again . . ."**

In the library, Giles sat at the central table. The once spacious table top was stacked high with dusty old books, several with covers now curled and bindings pulling apart with age. Usually meticulous with his grooming, Giles obviously had not been home the night before. His curly hair was greasy and disheveled, his face scraggly with a day old beard and his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep or possibly a few hefty pulls from his secret single malt stash in the librarian's office. The Watcher's attention leaped from book to book, but in his exhausted state, the references only seemed to confuse him more as he muttered oaths under his breath.

Nearby, Willow sat pert straight at her terminal as she struggled to transcribe the Latin in the first Martel notebook to her word processor. It was slow, tedious work. Every few moments, as if in answer to Giles' inaudible profanity, Willow uttered a loud exclamation of "POOH!" and then deleted the offending error as if it were a personal insult.

"Now I know what it must have been like before optical scanners," she sighed as she turned a page in the large black leather bound volume, "And I can't even read this stuff. Giles, were all the ancient books done by hand?"

"Hmm?" Giles answered without looking up, "Oh, yes. That's why so many of them have vanished, and others have had their texts hopelessly corrupted."

"Wow. It's amazing we have as much stuff as we do," Willow said shaking her head.

Suddenly she sat back from her computer and listened carefully. She instantly detected a change in the usual sounds of the day to day student activity in the halls of Sunnydale High.

"Uh oh . . . Buffy's coming," she said apprehensively.

"How do you know that?" Giles asked as he looked up from his books.

"I can hear chairs flying."

Suddenly the door to the library slammed open and Buffy stormed in. Immediately spotting Giles, she marched over to his desk and threw her book bag on the floor. Willow gasped at the display of temper.

"What the hell did you tell Snyder?" the Slayer snarled.

"Buffy! Calm down!" Willow interjected as she tried to be assertive the way Xander had been trying to teach her. The training back fired miserably.

"Shut up, Willow!" Buffy snapped without even looking over her shoulder. Willow gasped again and pouted.

"Giles! I get dragged into Snyder's office only to find out that you've told him I'm acting crazy 'cause my cousin was _killed in a car wreck!_"

"Well, aren't you?" Giles replied as he marshaled his unflappable Watcher's tone.

"Oooh!" Buffy howled as she stamped the floor, flopped into a chair and sulked.

"I had no choice," Giles announced firmly, "He confronted me. You're failing half your subjects. You've been disruptive in class when you're there, and he told me, frankly, you're facing suspension."

Buffy glowered at the floor.

"I had to tell him something . . . ," Giles continued, "Did he suspend you?"

"No. . . " Buffy pouted, "I must have blown his mind 'cause he was nice to me."

"Snyder? Nice? Horrors!" Willow exclaimed in mock shock, "It's a sign, Giles. The Hellmouth must be open again!"

Buffy glanced up at Willow who grinned at her. The smile was infectious as Buffy realized she couldn't keep up the pouty face. She smiled back at Willow who licked her thumb and marked the side of her terminal as if she were keeping score.

"Slayerette, one. Sour puss, zero."

"You win, Will," Buffy sighed, giving in to her best friend's warmth.

"Would you like to know what we've found?" Giles asked, now taking advantage of the sudden thaw in his Slayer's attitude.

"Depends," Buffy replied hesitantly, "Is it good, bad or just ugly?"

"A little of all three, I guess," Giles said gently, "I've finished translating Jonathan's first notebook, the one we have. It's mainly all his ideas and theories. A little dry by your standards, but there's important information that will come in useful."

Buffy gazed at Giles at the mention of Jonathan Martel.

"I'd like to read it sometime . . . after all this is over," she replied wistfully.

"You should. I think it'll help with those 'good memories' I mentioned last night."

Buffy nodded at her Watcher's reassuring words. At the same time, Willow got up from her terminal and came over to sit with Buffy.

"The bad news is," Giles continued, "The second notebook, the one Drusilla has, is a catalog or index of spells and specific formulas Jonathan knew. And, from what I can tell, that book is under a spell itself.

Buffy and Willow listened intently to Giles' explanation.

"If it's destroyed, not only does the writing vanish, the spells themselves become ineffective and, for all intents and purposes, cease to exist as well. I don't know whether the same power controls our notebook, but that's why I have Willow transcribing it now."

Buffy's eyes widened as she understood the import of Giles' information.

"So it's sort of like a fail safe or self destruct," Willow asked.

"Exactly," Giles said trying not to display any emotion, "Jonathan knew how dangerous his knowledge was. He was prepared to sacrifice everything to keep it from falling into the wrong hands."

"So what're our options?" Buffy asked and Giles could see the resignation that had settled in across her features.

"The simplest? Destroy the book of spells. But by doing that . . ."

"We also destroy Jonathan . . ." Buffy completed the explanation as she nodded her head and sighed.

"How about options a little more complicated but less nasty?" Willow broke in, searching for something that would give her friend some kind of hope to cling to.

"We can target whomever is trying to use the book, presumably Drusilla since she's the one who seems to be behind all this."

"I've always wanted to nail that miserable whiner!" Buffy growled as Willow sensed the fighting spirit of the old Buffy surge to the surface once more.

"That shouldn't be so hard," Willow chimed in, hoping to keep the Slayer's enthusiasm up.

"On the contrary," Giles contradicted, "If she's succeeded in channeling Jonathan's knowledge, going up against her will be like going up against Jonathan himself. Drusilla will be wielding all the powers of a full blown telekinetic."

"Ouch," Willow winced and frowned at Giles. Leave it to the methodical Watcher to come up with more problems, she thought.

"I still can't believe there isn't anything left of Jonathan that would try to stop her," Buffy said, shaking her head with her chin in her hand. For a moment, Willow swore she looked like Giles.

"That's an interesting angle," Giles mused as he assumed the same posture as Buffy. It was only when he removed his glasses and polished them nervously with his handkerchief that the Slayer and Watcher didn't resemble a pair of large and small matching statues.

"Jonathan posed that question himself. Listen to this . . . " Giles fingered the pages of his translation and began reading. "According to Nearchios of Babylon, when restoring body, mind and soul, the division between the first two is clear and absolute, but the boundary delineating the mind and the soul is vague and ephemeral. Nearchios claims that in some way, fragments of the soul, however insignificant, always exist in conjunction with the mind or that portion of human existence that is the seat of knowledge. I have never tested this hypothesis myself."

"Then, if Drusilla restored his mind, some of Jonathan's soul could still be in there!" Willow exclaimed with excitement.

"Possibly, " Giles said, trying to restrain any undue enthusiasm that could raise false hopes, "Unfortunately, no texts of Nearchios survive. Most were destroyed when the Library of Alexandria was burned by the Christians in the fourth century. Jonathan probably had the last surviving manuscript, and that must have perished at the hands of the Viennese mob when they stormed his study."

Willow however was not to be suppressed.

"Giles! Buffy! That's it!" she almost shouted, "Remember what Jonathan said. 'All my spells drop when there is great need.' If any of his soul is there, he'll answer our call for help!"

"And how do we do that?" Buffy asked as she felt herself drawn in to her friend's optimism despite her own misgivings.

Giles as well was now seriously interested in the possibilities.

"How did you call him back the first time?" he asked as he studied Willow for what he hoped would be the key to their dilemma.

For a moment, Willow was silent. She felt the stares of the Slayer and Watcher boring through her, searching desperately for the answer. Buffy's look especially betrayed a sense of pleading desperation. In a panic, Willow glanced back and forth at the two. She suddenly realized she had nothing and "choked."

"I . . . I don't remember," she stammered, "There were vampires all over the place. I just yelled."

Giles sighed with discouragement. He felt the brief moment of euphoria slipping quickly away as the reality of their situation settled back in.

"Not much to go on," he said, scratching his head, "And we don't even know if any of his soul still survives."

"I did it before, Giles!" Willow protested, also sensing the despair returning.

"It's too dangerous, Will," Buffy shook her head, nevertheless appreciative for what her friend was trying to do, "For all we know, Drusilla could be throwing lightning bolts at us by the time we get there."

"Buffy's right, Willow," Giles concurred in resignation, "The situation would be entirely unpredictable."

But the First Slayerette wouldn't give up. It was now or never. Time to bring on "Willow Tough."

"But it would be perfect!" she tried to explain, "You guys would distract Drusilla, Angel and Spike. They'd all be paying attention to you. Nobody ever pays any attention to me. Then I could sneak up to Jonathan and . . ."

Willow stopped, puzzled by what she would do next.

"And?" Buffy asked gently.

"Uh . . . I'd yell for help again?"

Buffy and Giles stared at Willow. She could see their expressions saying "No way!"

"I guess I gotta come up with something better than 'Help!' huh," she said sadly as she looked down ashamed.

Buffy only nodded.

"Oh, pooh!" Willow spat out as she stood up from the chair beside Buffy and stalked back over to her terminal, muttering as she went.

"I could do it! . . . I know I could . . . " she chattered to herself under her breath. At the same time she mimicked Buffy's flippant tone.

"But it's too dangerous, Willow!" She then puffed herself up in a pompous imitation of the Watcher, "No, Willow, what a preposterous idea, you helping out!"

Willow then plopped herself in front of her terminal all the while imitating Giles.

"Now type your Latin, Willow," she snapped with a breathy snooty voice, tossing her hair at the same time, "Look this up on the net for me, Willow. Research this one for me, Willow. . . . Pooh!"

Willow stared down at the Martel notebook that she had been transcribing. She knew he was there, somewhere. She gently stroked the open page with her hand.

"I'm gonna help, you. I know I can," Willow whispered to the ancient volume, "I just don't know how yet."

Buffy stared at her best friend for a moment and then hung her head. She wanted to apologize for how roughly she and Giles had treated Willow. Buffy understood the feeling of being taken for granted. She wanted to soothe Willow's hurt feelings but was unsure what to say. With a sigh, she turned to Giles.

"So what else do we know?"

"They must have learned how to raise Jonathan by now. Or are very close," Giles said, again running his fingers through his dirty hair.

"Uhh, I don't know," Buffy replied, shaking her head, "It's been awfully quiet lately. I think Drusilla hasn't quite figured out how to handle the wizard trip yet."

"Possibly," her Watcher concurred, "But we must assume the worst. Whatever demons we've had to face in the past, their main objective has always been the full opening of the Hellmouth."

"That I buy," Buffy nodded.

"And one of the Hellmouth focal points is in the Master's Chamber, under the old crypt in the west quadrangle."

The mention of the Master sent shivers up and down Buffy's spine as if a cold breeze from the Hellmouth itself had swept through the library.

"God. . . That place," she murmured, "Why does it always seem to come back to there?"

"Well it is the center of the paranormal activity in Sunnydale and . . ." Giles rambled in his clueless fashion.

"Giles, just shut up," Buffy interrupted as she felt her hands trembling.

"What did I say?" Giles asked surprised, at the same time glancing back and forth between Willow and the Slayer for an answer. Willow, who had been eavesdropping, piped up from her terminal.

"Giles! Master, Buffy! Dead! Duuuuh!"

"Oh, right. Sorry," Giles replied, trying to smooth over the blunder, "Anyway, at least Drusilla seems to be the least accomplished of the three. We have that going in our favor."

"I don't know Giles," Willow frowned, "She may be loopy but she's also pretty scary. Was she always that way?"

"We're not sure. Several accounts say her harvesting was a long and terrible ordeal spread out over weeks as Angelus fed on her repeatedly. The records disagree as to whether she was mad before or went insane during the harvesting."

"And this is supposed to make me sympathetic, Giles?" Buffy asked incredulous.

"We can't show sympathy for what these creatures are today," Giles mused, putting into words thoughts he had wrestled with since his early days as a Watcher, "But their tragedy is in what they were and the agony of their falling. Their destruction serves as a warning to us and deserves our awe and respect."

"Giles, I just stake 'em. I don't cry over 'em," Buffy replied coldly.

"What about Angel?" Willow said and her question was like a blow directly to Buffy's heart. For a moment, the Slayer was silent as she searched for the strength to say what she had to say.

". . . I'll have to stake him someday, too . . ." Buffy said quietly.

"Buffy, 'There but for the grace of God . . .'" Giles lectured.

That was it. Maybe it was Giles' patronizing tone, maybe Willow's always being right, but Buffy couldn't take the incessant talk from either of them. The last three weeks had been hard enough, waking up in the middle of the night, feeling Jonathan's strong arms wrapped around her, their bodies pressed against each other and then suddenly seeing his face in the seconds before he turned to dust.

She couldn't make it go away and she feared it never would.

"I know Giles, I know!" Buffy lashed out at both her Watcher and Willow, "But God didn't have anything to do with Angel losing his soul! Or Jonathan dying!"

That's all Willow could take as well. She had to halt her friend's downward slide into despair.

"Buffy, you've got to stop beating up yourself for everything," Willow argued back, "Xander's right. This guilt thing is gonna eat you alive!"

"Maybe, Will," Buffy answered firmly, "But I'm not screwing this one up."

Buffy paused as she considered her words carefully. They came naturally this time, just as she knew what she had to do.

"I have to set Jonathan free," the Slayer said, struggling to contain the emotions she felt welling up inside her chest, "That's what he asked me to do in the cemetery. Whatever it takes, Giles. If I have to, I will destroy Jonathan's notebook and him with it. But I will not let Drusilla control him like that!"

There was a long pause. Willow stood up, walked over and sat back down in the chair beside Buffy. Not knowing how to respond or ease Buffy's pain, Giles stared at the floor.

"And it's not because of opening the Hellmouth or saving the world. . . ." Buffy continued quietly, her eyes beginning to glisten, "I don't give a damn about that stuff anymore. . . "

She then looked up sadly at her Watcher, her face begging him for answers she knew at the same time he didn't have.

"Giles," Buffy said, her soft voice trembling, "I don't think I could ever sleep again . . . knowing his spirit was . . . wandering . . . like I saw it . . . and I had failed him . . ."

"Buffy . . ." Willow said as soothingly as possible.

Buffy didn't hear her.

". . . my Cuz, . . . " the Slayer whimpered softly as she put her face in her hands, "My poor, Cuz . . ."

Giles and Willow remained silent. Buffy's sobs echoed faintly in the Library.

**Chapter 7 - "Anytime I want it"**

"Try it again, love," Spike said calmly encouraging Drusilla.

"It doesn't work!" Drusilla snarled as she tossed her long dark hair off her shoulders.

Angelus and three other vampires stood at the far end of the conference table watching. The soulless but now clothed body of Johannes Martel sat in the central chair with two burning candles at opposite ends of the table. The young telekinetic's eyes were open but there was no wakefulness to his features. He was cast in a pallor not so much of death as of someone frozen in time with a sadness etched deeply into his face. Again, Drusilla slowly waved her hands in mid air. Her twisting motions were not directed towards Jonathan but rather at an empty chair set aside by the end of the table. She appeared to be trying to coax the piece of furniture into motion.

"The spells are all correct and in place," Spike said with a touch of excitement in his voice as he spotted the deep glow emanating from Drusilla's eyes, "Reach out now, Pet. Ask the wizard nicely one more time."

"Johannes, this is your love, your fiance, Drusilla," the vampire whispered to the empty body next to her. Her hands swept up and down first his face and then around his shoulders and down his naked waist.

"You remember me," she hissed as her teeth nicked the bare skin on Jonathan's neck, "We always shared everything. Well, I need you to share with me just a little of your powers. I'd like to move that chair. Will you help me pleeeeze," the last word she let slide out like a snake slithering from between her lips.

Drusilla gazed at the empty chair at the end of the table as she stretched out her hands. Her fingers trembled in the air while her eyes bulged as if they were exuding the souls of the tormented writhing in Hell itself.

Spike grinned with anticipation. He couldn't help but feel the excitement stirred by expectation.

"Reach out, Dru!" he almost shouted, now swept up by Drusilla's suggestive swaying "Search for his mind! Grasp the source of his power!"

"Bippity, boppity, boo!" Angelus snickered from the corner of the conference room.

"Shut up, Angelus!" Spike snapped.

"Spike! . . . It's there . . . I can feel it! It's there!" Drusilla cried out, her voice trembling

Drusilla now glowered at the chair, her eyes blazing with the building demonic fire. She waved her hand as if commanding the inanimate object to approach and bow in subservience. The wood of the chair shivered and then slowly slid towards her.

"Fabulous, love!" Spike exclaimed, not quite believing what he saw. "You've got it! Don't lose your concentration!"

"Wow, I'm impressed. Musical chairs." Angelus smirked in spite of his own growing fascination with Drusilla's transformation.

"Oh, Spike! It's wonderful!" she breathed heavily, her chest heaving in ecstasy, "No wonder Johannes wanted to keep it all to himself. It's better than my harvesting!"

"Dru, I'm hurt," Angelus said in a mock pout, "I was your first. How could you say that!"

"Oh, Angelus, darling, if you could only feel it!" Drusilla exclaimed, her body now waving back and forth as if it were held firmly and enveloped in the grip of a continuous surging ocean tide. She closed her eyes and turned her head up towards the ceiling, all the while drinking in the flow of new strength sweeping around her body and finally pouring into her.

"All the power he has at his command!" she suddenly cried out as her figure stiffened, her chest and hips thrust forward and her hands thrown wildly towards the ceiling. "It's mine now! All I have to do is take it anytime I want it!"

"Kinky, love!" Spike smiled appreciatively at the same time as his gut felt a new twinge of jealousy.

"I didn't realize jiggling a chair could be such a turn on," Angelus said, his voice betraying true puzzlement.

"No, Angelus, watch!" Drusilla exclaimed.

She lowered her hand to eye level and gave it a slight twirl from the wrist. From out of a pile of broken furniture in the corner of the room a long, sharp wooden dowel rose up. It hesitated momentarily in mid air and then, as if slammed by an irresistible surge of energy, flew furiously towards Drusilla. She reached out to grab it but her reflexes were still dulled from the sensation created by the power transferal. She missed. The wooden pole struck one of the vampires stationed on the other side of the room next to Angelus. The hapless victim exploded into dust.

"Oops!" Drusilla cooed with a huge fang laden smile as her face morphed.

"You didn't mean to do that!" Angelus exclaimed half mocking and half with an eye to the close proximity of the new pile of vampire particles.

"Not too bad for a first try," Spike nodded with a grin, appreciating Angelus' discomfort. He turned to the remnants of the recently dusted vampire.

"Sorry about that," he remarked casually as he quickly returned his attention to Drusilla, "We'll have to work on your control, Pet."

"No, Spike! I'm ready now!" she said with a command in her voice that neither Spike or Angelus had ever heard. Angelus hesitated momentarily, but Spike smiled as his face morphed as well.

"Let's do it, love!"

Drusilla turned to Jonathan. Deliberately, she turned his chair away from the table to face her. In a sweeping motion, she raised her leg and slid across his thighs to settle down on his lap. Smoothly, she slipped her hips firmly down against his and began moving her body rhythmnically as she whispered in his ear.

"Thank you, Johannes! That was sooo good!" she hissed as her tongue played up and down his face and neck. The body in her arms remained unresponsive. The light from the candles cast deep shadows across his face.

"Come, darlings!" she suddenly shouted out in mid motion, "I feel like partying!" Drusilla jumped back off Jonathan's lap and swept across the conference room as if she were still Crown Princess of the Holy Roman Empire. Like a favored courtier, Spike rolled his wheelchair right behind her. The two surviving vampires followed as a nervous Angelus took up the procession's rear. In a moment more, the conference room was empty save the motionless body of Jonathan Martel.

He sat still in the chair where Drusilla had discarded him. His head was tipped slightly to one side, his long brown hair disheveled and his blue eyes wide and staring out unseeing.

The only light in the growing darkness of the evening came from the two candles still burning on the table. As their flames flickered, they threw Jonathan's wavering shadow across the wall. In the moving flames, the shadow jerked and twisted in the illusion of a soul writhing in torment.


	3. Part 3 A Lousy Liar

"If I should die before I wake" - Part 3 _by  
Gaius Petronius_

DISCLAIMER:  
Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all the characters that appear on the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, the WB, Fox and Mutant Enemy, Inc. I only borrow them, mess with their heads, make them cry and, every once in a while, torture them. I do lay claim to the character of Johannes Martel since he is the central character in an original novel I've been working on now for too many years.

Spoilers: BtVS season two. Originally written in script format during the spring of 1998, "If I should die before I wake" is the sequel to my first Buffy novel, "Carpe Diem."

Rating: PG-13 for violence and language.

**"If I Should Die Before I Wake"  
**by Gaius Petronius

"But in the grey of the morning,  
My mind becomes confused  
Between the dead and the sleeping  
And the road that I must choose."

The Moody Blues, "Question," 1970

"Now I lay me down to sleep,  
I pray the Lord my soul to keep.  
If I should die before I wake,  
I pray the Lord my soul to take."

Anonymous child's prayer

**Chapter 8 - A Lousy Liar**

Joyce Summers sat across the kitchen table from her daughter as she and Buffy struggled through an evening dinner together. Both were silent, neither glancing up from their plates. This was one of those increasingly rare occasions, eating supper together. For a change, Joyce was not late from a show at her struggling art gallery and Buffy during the last three weeks rarely rushed out at first dusk as she used to. So here they were together, uncomfortable and unspeaking.

Buffy stared at her warmed over, nutritionally balanced, three food group, prepackaged microwave meal mounded up on her plate. She poked the pile of mashed potatoes with her fork, releasing a flow of lukewarm gravy down the ridged slope in an imaginary rush of lava that, in her mind, inundated all the undead of the cemetery. Dozens of nameless vampires along with those few with faces, Drusilla, Spike, and Angelus . . . especially Angelus, were all swept away in the rush of brown goo that oozed across her plate toward the levee of off-green partially cooked peas.

More worried than usual about Buffy's silent and gloomy expression, Joyce studied her daughter carefully as Buffy appeared to push her food around with an unfathomable purpose. Finally, Joyce faced up to the inevitable. Being both a Gemini and a mother of a teenage daughter, she had to talk.

"Buffy?" she asked carefully.

"Yeah, Mom?" Buffy answered as if called back from a dream.

Joyce took a deep breath as she prepared to initiate the actual conversation.

"You're going to have to tell me sooner or later what's happened."

"What?" Buffy asked, looking up from the fantasized devastation on her plate as she realized she had been asked an actual question.

"You've been tearing yourself to pieces the last three weeks," Joyce said as gently as possible, "Please don't shut me out. Let me help."

"It's okay, Mom," Buffy said in a flat tone of voice as she stared back down at what was now just an ordinary plate of microwaved food, "There's nothing you can do."

Joyce picked up on the slight opening.

"Why don't you let me be the judge. Is it anything to do with that exchange student you were seeing?"

Buffy didn't respond but continued to stare down at her plate.

"Oh no, Buffy! It's not something like what happened with that Angel person . . ." Instantly Joyce realized in mid sentence her verbal blunder, allowing her emotions to get in the way of her need to collect information. To her surprise, her daughter cut her off.

"No! No, Mom. Nothing like that."

"Thank God," Joyce sighed.

There was a long silence as Buffy offered no further information.

"But it is about that Martel boy, isn't it?" Joyce asked hoping to re-establish the dialogue.

Buffy nodded, still staring down at her plate. Suddenly she looked up directly at her mother. Joyce's heart skipped a silent beat as she saw her daughter's wide eyes and the wetness steaming down her cheeks.

"He died, Mom," Buffy stumbled over the words but their meaning clear nonetheless, "Jonathan died."

Momentarily in a state of total shock, Joyce stared at her daughter. This was the one thing she had never expected to hear. And then the walls between them crumbled. The agonized look on Buffy's face cut to her mother's heart. Joyce quickly rediscovered her voice, stood up and pulled up a kitchen chair next to Buffy. As she sat back down, she wrapped her arms around her daughter in an unconditional expression of mother's love.

"Oh, my God. My poor darling. Oh Buffy . . . I'm so sorry."

The embrace lasted for a long time. As she stroked her daughter's long hair, Joyce worried that Buffy felt immobile in her arms, like a rag doll. Finally, Joyce held her daughter out at arm's length.

"Buffy, are you going to be okay?"

"I don't know, Mom."

"You have to talk to me when something like this happens," Joyce said without any reproach in her voice, "You're right, I may not be able to do anything. But no one should have to carry that kind of burden alone."

"I am supposed to meet with the guidance counselor at school," Buffy said hesitantly as she wiped her wet face with her sleeve, ignoring the perfectly clean napkin by the side of her plate, "Giles told Principal Snyder, and he asked me to go."

"Mr. Giles, he watches out for you a lot, doesn't he," Joyce said, marveling that a total stranger in the Sunnydale school system would actually pay attention to the well being of her difficult daughter.

"Yeah," Buffy answered. Joyce sensed a world of emotions in that single word response.

"I'll have to remember to thank him," Joyce said out loud to herself. She really wanted to, since it had been so long since someone had told her, even indirectly, that they cared. "What happened?"

Buffy looked away from her Mother and almost mumbled her words.

"It was a car wreck," Buffy lied as best she could, "Right after he got back to Europe."

"Anything you want me to do for you?" Joyce couldn't believe she had gotten this far with her daughter.

"Mom?"

"Yes?"

Buffy looked up at her mother as her large green eyes glistened and begged for an answer to the question that had plagued her for the past three weeks.

"What do you think happens to someone . . . when they die?"

The sentence struck Joyce as if she had been slapped in the face. It was the second statement that evening for which she was totally unprepared.

"I mean, like when my cousin died," Buffy continued nervously as her eyes stayed focused on her mother, "Do you think someone just disappears and everything ends?"

Joyce took a deep breath. She knew what she said next was probably one of the most important things she was ever going to say to her daughter. And then it came to Joyce Summers. All she had to do was tell Buffy what she believed herself, what she hoped would be the outcome of all things that she loved.

"Buffy, honey," Joyce said with conviction, "If there is one thing I am sure of, it is that there is a spirit in us that makes us what we are. And that spirit is forever."

Joyce realized that Buffy was hanging on every word. The weight of guilt and worry that Joyce Summers had carried for so long, first for the divorce and secondly for her daughter's continuous "problems," were lifting. Buffy, for the first time in years, was listening.

"You know we haven't been much for church since the divorce," Joyce continued, "I don't pretend to know what specifically happens when someone dies. Nobody does. I like to think, maybe, that spirit becomes a part of something beautiful. . . .a rainbow, a sunset, waves breaking on the rocks at the beach. Does that make sense?"

She could see the sadness recede, if only slightly, from Buffy's face. Her daughter started to show the faintest hint of a smile.

"You know, Jonathan and I used to sit in the Library and talk a lot . . . about all kinds of stuff," Buffy confessed slowly, "That's just like what he said."

"See, so maybe I'm not so totally out of it," Joyce replied with a mother's pride.

"Thanks, Mom."

Buffy wrapped her arms around Joyce and gave her a quick teenage squeeze. A soft rap at the back kitchen door interrupted the case of the huggies. Outside in the dark, an antsy Willow hopped from foot to foot.

"Come on in, Will," Buffy called out as she wiped her eyes, this time with the fresh napkin.

"Hello, Mrs. Summers," Willow sang out as she entered the kitchen.

"Hello, Willow," Joyce answered warmly, "You both off to the Library?"

"Right," Buffy volunteered, "Then we're going to the Bronze after we finish studying."

As Willow and Buffy headed for the kitchen door, Willow looked closely at Buffy's face.

"Your mascara's a mess. You been crying, again?"

"Nah!" Buffy lied, glancing away, "Just onions."

"Oh, yeah, right!" Willow quipped like Xander, "And you're taking Latin your senior year, too!"

Willow quickly turned to Buffy's mother.

"She's a lousy liar, Mrs. Summers. But don't worry, she can't fool me!"

Joyce watched with love as Buffy and Willow marched confidently out into the evening darkness.

"I know, Willow," she said softly so that only she herself could hear, "I know."

**Chapter 9 - Shadows**

The two white coated orderlies slammed full force against the brightly lit hallway wall in the Sunnydale Municipal Hospital. Without resistance, both slid to the floor. Drusilla grinned as she waved her fingers at one of the now motionless bodies. The neck twisted sharply in a fashion it was never intended. That movement was accompanied by a muffled liquid crack. Spike marveled at how Drusilla never once laid a physical hand on them.

Spike in his wheelchair, followed by Drusilla, Angelus and a half dozen vampires rolled up to the locked room where the refrigerated blood supplies were stored. His face morphed as he relished the thought of what lay just beyond the metal barrier. Several nurses ran screaming around the bend in the corridor.

Drusilla casually approached the locked door to the blood bank. She glared at the door handle for a moment, then clenched her fist as if she were grasping it with her mind. Slowly she turned her fingers. At the same time, the handle began to bend accompanied by the sound of wrenching metal. In an instant, the interior locking mechanism crumbled and the door handle fell apart as the door swung wide open. Drusilla and the other vampires marched into the room.

"Impressive, Luv," Spike said softly in admiration.

"Wow! Drinks on the house!" Angelus shouted with excitement as he swept several bags of the red liquid up in his arms." He stopped and scowled. "Crap! It's all cold! That's the one thing I can't stand in this country. They drink it cold! Yech!"

"Dru, darling, let's not lose sight of our original plan," Spike reminded Drusilla as he wheeled up by her side, "There is a Hellmouth waiting. And after that, well, we won't have to waste time with any of this flat bottled stuff again."

"Of course, Spike," she replied as if she were descending into one of her dream states. As she did she turned to the group of vampires who were fondling bags of blood along with Angelus.

"Fetch me the Watcher and one of his companions for the sacrifice!" she proclaimed. Spike immediately recognized the Power of Command in her voice. "Bring them to the Master's Chamber. Angelus, would you be so kind as to escort my loving fiance to the Hellmouth!"

"Angelus . . . remember . . . no breakage!" Spike quickly interjected.

"I have my white gloves on!" Angelus grinned as he raised his hands in mock innocence. He and the other vampires moved quickly back out into the hallway. The Power of the Command suppressed any complaint Angelus may have had at being designated the errand boy again. In a moment more, Drusilla and Spike were left alone in the blood bank.

This was how Spike liked it. He was alone with his Dru. And she was doubly hot now because she wielded the incredible powers of the miserable Martel telekinetic. Spike could feel himself getting turned on as he stared at the curves of her body beside him and imagined the telekinetic force pulsing through her flesh. Wheelchair be damned, he'd have her on the floor in a second.

"Just imagine," Drusilla spoke with a strange clarity Spike had never heard from her, "By tomorrow, we will walk in the blood of the world. And my fiance, Johannes, and I will be Emperor and Empress of all the Dead."

"Perhaps," Spike answered hesitantly as a realization suddenly struck him like the force of a stake driven straight to his heart. What if the telekinetic powers she was drawing from Johannes Martel were changing her, clearing her thoughts? He quickly studied her face, searching for any faint hints of sanity. What he saw glaring back chilled him. It was Drusilla but not the deranged, erratic, randomly evil vampire who had sired him to bring home to her "Daddy." The copper eyes that stared back at him from beyond the morphed face were sharp like topaz crystals, unmoving, infinitely evil and cold as the deepest waters from the ocean that crashed against the rocks of the Hebrides.

"You're always so negative, Spike," Drusilla answered, her voice laced with a razor logic that Spike found far more disturbing and exciting than any of the old Dru's flights of wicked fancy. "You question even when it's all handed to you."

"That's what I'm worried about. It's too easy," he replied nervously as he rolled his wheelchair away from her now towering figure.

"I'm offering you the world . . ." she said, her voice rediscovering the ancient authority from her days as Crown Princess of the Holy Roman Empire.

"Dru, darling, it's the small things," Spike began with caution as he sized up the nature of this totally new creature that loomed beside him, "That which we do not see, even you. . . . they are the downfall of empires."

The heavy distorted brows on Drusilla's morphed forehead rose in a question.

"For lack of the nail, the shoe was lost," Spike recited from memory casting his fears to he wind,  
"For lack of the shoe, the horse was lost.  
For lack of the horse, the cannon was lost.  
For lack of the . . . ."

"I hate poetry, Spike," Drusilla interrupted with a casual but deadly criticism. "Sometimes you sound too much like the wizard."

"We would do well to beware the wizard's powers," he answered just as seriously, now realizing he was speaking with an equal. "And remember from Whom it is bestowed that we fear the greatest."

Drusilla stared at Spike, her glowing yellow eyes devoid of feeling. The frivolous lunacy of the Drusilla he had known for over a hundred years was nowhere to be seen. Spike glared back, drinking in the intoxicating evil pouring out from the creature beside him. Drusilla turned away, her golden eyes seeming to pierce the walls and reach to the Beyond into unknown vistas of time and space. Spike knew she was searching the realms of Chaos, using the telekinetic power to seek out the random paths of future events.

"Gads! She's hot!" he thought. "Right now! On the floor!"

Jonathan Martel sat staring blankly ahead at the long conference room table between the two burning candles. A thin shaft of light from stars in the night sky passed through a small window near the ceiling and fell in a corner of the room. The stillness almost seemed peaceful until Angelus burst into the room with the other vampires.

"Each of you get one of the candles," he ordered, "Don't let them go out. I'll handle Mr. Wizard, here."

Angelus roughly boosted Jonathan out of his seat and to his feet, then stepped away from the young telekinetic. Jonathan stood unswaying but was still unresponsive.

"Hang on a second," Angelus said to the lackey vampires as he examined the unseeing, unfeeling body standing before him. "Put the candles down and step outside. I got something private to discuss with Wiz."

The vampires set the candles back on the table and left. Angelus walked around eying Jonathan up and down. The vampire suddenly stopped and glared at the figure before him.

"Funny," Angelus said sarcastically as he rubbed his chin with his thumb and forefinger, "You don't look anything like me."

He started to turn away from Jonathan, but then unexpectedly spun on his heals and landed a punch right to Jonathan's face. Although he swayed with the blow, the body of the young telekinetic didn't fall or show any indication that he felt the blow. Angelus glared closely at the spot on Jonathan's face where a purple welt was already rising.

"Hhmm. . . .no difference," the vampire said out loud, "You still don't look like me. . . . I can't figure out what Buffy sees in you. I mean, look at you, you're like a dummy. While with me, well, I'm dashing, handsome, older than you. I know she digs older men."

Jonathan, the bruise on his eye now growing into a bulge, stared blankly ahead.

"Maybe it's all those fireworks you know how to use," Angelus continued as he stalked around Jonathan as if he were prey. "That was quite a show you put on for her with the Ancient One. But anybody can learn that stuff. Look at Dru, now. And she's a real nimwit."

The candles on the table cast wavering shadows of Angelus and Jonathan against the wall of the conference room.

"I'll admit you had me running scared there two centuries ago. You were a butt buster back then. But times have changed, Wiz boy. I've two hundred years experience on you, and I got it all planned out. When we get this Hellmouth thing squared away . . . I'm gonna harvest you . . . and the Slayer!"

Ever so slowly, Angelus' shadow grew taller as the candle nearest him burned lower. The candle directly beside Jonathan was slightly taller as it burned more slowly. The effect cast his shadow on the wall as if he were stooping down under the weight of what he now heard from Angelus.

"She'll be all mine of course," the vampire grinned evilly as he studied his fingernails, "And you'll be veggie man like you are now. Can you imagine it, . . . the Hellmouth open, and me controlling you . . . and Buffy! And I couldn't do it without you. . . . I really don't know how to thank you . . . Maybe LIKE THIS!"

Angelus punched Jonathan in the stomach, then kicked his feet out from underneath him. Jonathan fell unresisting to the floor. Angelus kicked him again and again. He finally stopped, bored that the body of Jonathan Martel wasn't fighting back.

"Say, 'You're welcome.'" Angelus grimaced. There was no response. Jonathan lay still on the floor.

"You're no damn fun!" Angelus snarled as he stormed over to the door and yelled out in the hallway to the waiting vampires.

"All right you turkeys, let's get this show on the road!"

The lackey vampires scurried into the room, two of them retrieving the candles. Angelus bent down and yanked Jonathan to his feet.

"Come on! Get up Sleeping Beauty! You got a date! . . . in the Master's Chamber! And you better not keep her waiting!"

The vampires swept out of the conference room into the hallway followed by Jonathan who staggered as he was pushed by Angelus. The basement room was now totally dark except for the faint shaft of light through the window from the stars outside.

**Chapter 10 - Willow Tough**

Willow and Buffy strode casually under the street lamps down the sidewalk towards Sunnydale High. Up the street in the distance, what sounded like a crowd of drunken revelers echoed loudly between the buildings. Buffy listened nervously to the sound as Willow chattered away. The Slayer realized there was something wrong in the tone of the voices. This wasn't just one of the UC Sunnydale frat parties that had spilled into the street. Although she couldn't make out the words, Buffy sensed the evil in the muffled shouts and indistinct sentences.

"You know, I wish my mom was so cool about stuff," Willow prattled on, oblivious to her friend's growing unease, "When I got my 'friend' for the first time, she just gave me a book to read and ran out of the room."

"Willow, be quiet," the Slayer said apprehensively as she gripped Willow's arm.

Both halted and stared up the street. In a second, the crowd slipped into view as they paraded around a corner and walked down the middle of the street as if they owned it. One was clearly rolling in a wheelchair. The nearest street lamp reflected a flash of heavily moused platinum hair.

"What is it, Buffy?" Willow asked.

"I don't like the looks of this," the Slayer muttered.

A Cadillac deVille with dark tinted windows suddenly swept by Buffy and Willow. The vehicle headed towards the approaching crowd standing in the middle of the street. As it converged on the revelers, the driver blew the horn. Just as quickly, a woman with long dark locks of hair, strode out of the front of the group and swung both her hands up into the air. Instantly, the car careened out of control as if it had been shoved aside by an invisible and impermeable barrier. The Cadillac flipped over bursting into flames with a tremendous crash of tearing metal and shattering glass. Buffy yanked Willow down to a crouching position and they slipped into the shadow of the bushes.

"Oh My God!" Willow exclaimed.

"It's Drusilla and Spike!" Buffy answered, "She's managed to channel Jonathan's powers!"

"I don't see Angelus anywhere," Willow said as she squirmed in the Slayer's grasp to get a better view.

"Willow, you've got to get to the Library and warn Giles and Xander!" Buffy said with a hushed urgency, "Have them wait for me! I'm going to find out where Drusilla's heading although I think I already know."

"The Hellmouth? The Master's Chamber?" Willow asked, her terror building.

"Go! Run! Now!" Buffy exclaimed as she pushed her friend in the direction of the concealing bushes.

Understanding, Willow took off through the shadows towards the school. Buffy took a deep breath and advanced out onto the sidewalk to see more clearly. Immediately she was spotted by Spike.

"Isn't that the Slayer over there?" he said as he poked Drusilla and pointed towards the sidewalk down the street.

She nodded without emotion as if Spike were merely bringing a tree or a rock to her attention.

"What say we see just how far our Wizard's power extends?" Spike suggested with a wicked playfulness.

Drusilla nodded again. As she prepared to release another wall of invisible force, Buffy instantly realized what was about to happen. The Slayer broke into a sprint as she silently prayed she could quickly put as much distance as possible between her and the telekinetic forces Drusilla now wielded.

Drusilla threw up both arms and the rush of the telekinetic force roared down the street like an invisible tsunami of twisting air and warped light waves towards Buffy. The Slayer couldn't out run or dodge it. It caught her, picked her up and tossed her wildly over a group of shrubs into the dark.

"Strike, Luv!" Spike exclaimed as he prepared to wheel over and collect the body, "Shall I do the honors?"

Drusilla held up her hand in a gesture of Command. Spike froze, his wheelchair suddenly immobile, the wheels unresponsive in his hands.

"Leave her be. I just sent the Slayer a warning," Drusilla answered coldly, "Now she will carry that message to the rest and lead them to me."

"Your call," Spike shrugged his shoulders.

The vampires, laughing as they passed the wreckage of the flaming Cadillac, moved down the street towards the entrance to the cemetery. They paid no attention to Buffy who lay still where she had fallen.

Willow burst in through the Sunnydale High main entrance. The perky and energetic sounds of cheerleading practice echoed down the ill lit hallway. Just outside the double doorway to the gym on a bench under cover of the dark wall of lockers, Xander and Cordelia were making out, oblivious to everything around them. Willow spotted them by the sighs and indistinct slurping noises that both grossed her out and made her extremely angry. Immediately she put on her best "Willow Tough" expression, stormed over and gave both a swat across their heads.

"OWW!" Xander squalled in surprise.

"Knock it off your two!" Willow snapped, "We got big trouble!"

"Willow! What the hell are you . . ." Cordelia protested as she struggled to master her snottiest tone of voice and straighten her rumpled cheerleader's outfit at the same time. She was no match for the diminutive but furious red haired computer geek now looming over them like the Colossus of Sunnydale.

"Shut up, pom pom brain!" Willow snarled, "We gotta find Giles! Both of you to the Library . . . NOW!"

Willow ran off towards the lights shining out into the hallway from the Library. Xander and Cordelia reluctantly abandoned their necking and followed.

**Chapter 11 - Join Me.**

Behind the Library check out desk, Giles was still pouring over his pile of books from that morning. The light from a single green glass desk lamp shown across his work. The faint illumination from the street lamps outside cast shadows from the book shelves onto the floor and walls. Giles turned page after page, rapidly scanning each one but after twelve hours of research he was now reduced to running his finger down each page in order to help his tired eyes focus on the contents.

Willow suddenly burst in with Xander and Cordelia close behind.

"Giles!"

The Watcher jumped in his seat with surprise as if he had just sat down on one of Xander's secretly planted whoopee cushions.

"What! What is it?"

"Buffy and I just saw Drusilla and a whole gang of vampires parading down the street like it was July 4th!" Willow exclaimed in a rush, barely able to catch her breath, "They must have gotten hold of Jonathan's powers! Drusilla was smashing things and blowing up cars just by waving her hands at them!"

"Where's Buffy?" Xander asked, now understanding the gravity of the situation.

"She was going to check out where they were headed but she figures it's the Master's Chamber. She said to wait for her here."

"So it's finally come to this," Giles said, shaking his head in resignation. He stood up and walked over to a specific locked cabinet in the library wall. Fumbling with a set of keys, he thrust a large brass one into the lock and opened the cabinet door. In a moment more, he had pulled out a small but particularly lethal looking crossbow.

"We'll have to destroy Jonathan's notebook with a flaming dart. We'll never be able to get close enough to Drusilla to. . ."

Xander interrupted him.

"But I don't get why we have to destroy the book!" he exclaimed, "Can't we steal it back and use the spells to restore Jonathan?"

"That's what I've been trying to say!" Willow howled in frustration, "Nobody'll listen!"

"Why stop with Jonathan?" Cordelia chimed in as her brain produced one of its rare moments of rational thought, "With the book, we could bring back Angel. We could change Spike and Drusilla! Giles, we could end this Hellmouth thing right now! For good!"

For a moment, everyone in the Library was silent as the impact of Cordelia's idea sank in. Giles paced back and forth, pondering her words as he ran his hand through is disheveled curly hair.

"Wow, no more Hellmouth," Willow said softly in amazement, "Buffy could be, like, . . . normal."

"Yeah, and have two cute guys chasing after her," Cordelia continued.

"Giles?" Willow asked, her voice trembling with hope, "Could it . . . could it . . . work?"

"This might be the real knock out punch, big guy," Xander said forcefully, "I say it's worth the risk!"

Giles turned to face the assembled Scoobies and answered them slowly.

"I know how much all of you want this to end. But during my training as a Watcher, I was warned . . . specifically about this. Through out history, the spells for reanimation, especially that for soul restoration, have only brought evil. No matter how good the intentions of those involved, the results have been catastrophic to say the least."

"But, Giles, this is not the past!" Xander argued.

"Right!" Willow added, "This is the present, and we are trying to write the future!"

"They are evil, Willow, not a blessing!" Giles answered back, his voice trembling with fear, "Why do you think the Gypsies only used them as a curse. The last time a reanimation spell was used was in Egypt sixty years ago. A Book of the Dead containing a reanimation spell was discovered by a British expedition. It disappeared within hours of its unearthing but not before something had risen. The expedition assistant translating the scroll was found screaming in the newly opened tomb and two guards were dead outside!"

"What happened?" Cordelia asked nervously, "Did they ever find the scroll again?"

"The Senior expedition leader was rumored to be a Watcher. It's generally believed he destroyed the scroll and put back down whatever it was, but he denied it to his dying day. He hinted that . . . something else . . . even more powerful, reached out from beyond, seized the being that had risen and dragged it back into the aether. And he warned all Watchers if ever a reanimation spell resurfaced . . . to destroy it immediately . . . without even reading it!"

"But that's still the past, Giles!" Willow protested.

"Too often, Willow, the past is what writes the future," Giles answered ominously.

"Unless the present steps in, says 'enough!' and changes it!" Xander countered.

"No good can come of this!" Giles snarled at all three Scoobies. Willow in particular was shocked by the furious tone of the Watcher's voice.

"I forbid it!" Giles declared, closing the door on any further debate.

"Then if that's the way you see it," Xander sighed as he turned to the open cabinet and withdrew a short handled ax, "I guess it's blunt trauma time."

"Uh, I'm kinda late for cheerleading practice!" Cordelia stammered as she caught sight of Xander hefting the weapon. She quickly slipped out of the room and made a bee line for the gym.

"What are you proposing?" Giles asked Xander.

"G-Man, this is not the time for waiting," Xander answered as he tested the sharpness of the ax blade with his thumb, "You think Buffy is gonna come back here? Fat chance! She's heading into the Master's Chamber by herself right now. Somebody's gotta stand with her." He then strode towards the Library doors. Giles followed in silent agreement.

"Wait, I'm coming, too!" Willow called out.

"No way, Will," Xander said firmly as he faced her.

"What?" she exclaimed with mounting frustration.

"You stay here in case Buffy shows up," Giles said as if dismissing Willow to another tedious research task.

He and Xander, armed with the crossbow and a pair of axes, ran out of the Library. In disgust, Willow plopped back down in front of her computer. She muttered at the blank screen in front of her.

"What is it about you Willow?" she complained sarcastically to the empty room, "Is it your breath? Your hair? . . . It's your mind! That's it! They're afraid of your mind!"

Giles and Xander raced down the wide concrete steps of Sunnydale High, across the night enshrouded street and off towards the cemetery. Within minutes, they entered the West gate and plunged into the darkness surrounding the tombstones.

"Perhaps we should proceed with more caution," Giles suggested panting.

"It's too late for that now," Xander shouted over his shoulder.

Before the echo of Xander's response dissipated in the night, Spike, flanked by Drusilla and a half dozen vampires, had rolled out from behind a tombstone. All instantly blocked Xander and Giles' path and quickly surrounded them.

"That it is Watcher and Boy Wonder!" Spike announced, his face morphing at the same time.

Giles and Xander whirled about to defend themselves but before Giles could raise his crossbow, Drusilla waved her arm in a swaying motion. An invisible wave of force stuck both Xander and Giles, knocking them to the ground and sending their weapons flying out of their hands. Several vampires jumped on them and, with little struggle, yanked Giles and Xander to their feet.

"Take them to the Chamber!" Drusilla proclaimed, her voice again laced with Command, "Their blood along with the Wizard's power will bless the opening of the Hellmouth!"

Quickly the vampires forced Giles and Xander to march off into the darkness.

"See how easy it all is," Drusilla grinned at Spike. Her copper eyes glowed brightly and the yellowish tinge of her fangs shimmered in the night.

"That's what I don't like about it, Dru," Spike mused as he stared down the path leading towards the entrance to the Master's Chamber.

Buffy finally began to stir. Lying behind a row of hedges where Drusilla's wave of force had thrown her, she was dazed and bruised but otherwise unhurt. In the distance, the blaze from the flaming car and the emergency lights of the fire trucks pierced the darkness. She suddenly jumped to her feet and raised her fists in defense. Angelus stood only yards away smiling at her.

"What? You aren't glad to see me?" he grinned, holding his arms out in mock innocence.

"What's Drusilla done with Jonathan?" Buffy snarled.

"Easy, Buffy!" Angelus answered, his voice dripping sarcasm, "Your lover boy is safe in the Master's Chamber. For now. And I guess Dru has probably got your Watcher and Xander there as well."

"I swear! If you hurt them . . . !"

"And what are you going to do to stop us?" Angelus answered, his eyes radiating evil, "You can't stand up to Drusilla. It's over, Buffy. Jonathan, Giles, Xander, pretty soon Willow. They're all finished. And you will be, too. The way I see it, there's only one way out."

Buffy glared at Angelus, her face a mixture of fury and panic.

"Join me," he whispered.

"WHAT!"

"Give it up and cross over," the vampire said with a cold and perverse logic, "Join up with me. You and me, we can be together again. Maybe not the way we originally thought, but we'll be together. That's what you've always wanted. And we can save them; Willow, Giles, Xander. Maybe even Jonathan."

Buffy shook her head in disbelief.

"It doesn't hurt," Angelus smiled, his whispering voice floating through the night like the hypnotic hiss of a rattlesnake, "Only takes a minute. Imagine, we could finally be in each other's arms again."

Angelus' face suddenly morphed as he stepped towards the Slayer. For the first time in her years of battling the undead, Buffy's soul trembled in terror at the sight. Her eyes widened in horror. She turned and fled into the night towards Sunnydale High.

"Oh, well, I gave you your chance," Angelus shrugged nonchalantly.


	4. Part 4 Follow my voice

"If I should die before I wake" - Part 4 _by  
Gaius Petronius_

DISCLAIMER:  
Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all the characters that appear on the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, the WB, Fox and Mutant Enemy, Inc. I only borrow them, mess with their heads, make them cry and, every once in a while, torture them. I do lay claim to the character of Johannes Martel since he is the central character in an original novel I've been working on now for too many years.

Spoilers: BtVS season two. Originally written in script format during the spring of 1998, "If I should die before I wake" is the sequel to my first Buffy novel, "Carpe Diem."

Rating: PG-13 for violence and language.

**"If I Should Die Before I Wake"  
**by Gaius Petronius

"But in the grey of the morning,  
My mind becomes confused  
Between the dead and the sleeping  
And the road that I must choose."

The Moody Blues, "Question," 1970

"Now I lay me down to sleep,  
I pray the Lord my soul to keep.  
If I should die before I wake,  
I pray the Lord my soul to take."

Anonymous child's prayer

**Chapter 12 - Follow My Voice**

Willow sat alone in front of her computer terminal in the library. Although Xander and Giles had charged off into the night in search of Buffy only an hour earlier, it seemed as if days had passed. To occupy the time, Willow struggled to transcribe the notebook of Johannes Martel onto her word processor but the combination of the handwriting and Latin slowed her so much she was reduced to hunt and peck on the keyboard.

Unaccustomed to the light delicate script and unfamiliar language, Willow made mistake after mistake. She also kept looking nervously over her shoulder towards the library door at every sound emanating from the dark hallway. Finally she slammed her fist on the table in frustration, and the notebook fell off onto the floor.

"Oh pooh! This is hopeless!" she complained to herself, "It's like typing code that makes no sense!"

Willow carefully picked up the notebook and stood it up by the terminal again. She stared at the flowing script that she couldn't read. In her mind, she imagined Jonathan Martel standing by her side. But instead of smiling and joking as they all had on the steps of Sunnydale High just weeks before, his figure appeared bent over as if bearing a great weight. The impish grin was gone and his blue eyes shown with a dull grey. Slowly he began silently pointing out individual words on the page before Willow. She turned to stare up at his tall form but before her eyes could focus, the image vanished.

"Where are you?" she whispered earnestly to the empty air beside her. "We need your help . . . Buffy needs you . . . we all need you now. Please . . . where are you?"

As if in a trance she began to run one of her hands over the open pages, feeling the texture of the fibers. Each of the pages was warm to the touch and she swore they seemed to be emitting the faintest yellow light. Quickly Willow shook her head. Thinking the sensations were only a product of her imagination, she redirected her attention to the transcription work once more.

"Come on, Willow, girl, concentrate! You can do this . . . for Jonathan."

The sudden echo of the front door slamming and footsteps racing down the hallway towards the library made her spin in her chair. In an instant, Buffy burst through the library door and almost scared Willow off her seat. Buffy's face was dripping with sweat and her eyes wide with panic.

"Oh! Buffy, it's you!" Willow gasped in relief.

"Where's Giles?" Buffy panted as she glanced around frantically.

"He's not here. He and Xander went to look for you."

"When did they leave?" Buffy exclaimed, and Willow could sense her friend's panic mounting.

"About an hour ago, when you didn't show up."

The Slayer suddenly collapsed in a chair as her panic of moments before was replaced by a blank stare.

"Then she does have them . . ." she muttered.

"Who? What are you talking about?"

"Drusilla," Buffy said without looking up. "She's got Giles and Xander. She's gonna sacrifice them to open the Hellmouth. And I delivered them right to her."

"No, Buffy!" Willow exclaimed as she jumped up from her terminal and joined Buffy, "You know that's not true! They were worried. They went to help you!"

"She must be channeling Jonathan's powers," Buffy continued despairing as she ignored Willow, "Giles was careful, he never would have allowed himself . . ."

"Buffy, stop talking like that!" Willow shouted.

"Shut up, Willow!" Buffy yelled back with mounting fury and frustration, "It's all my fault again! I'm responsible for this! Everything I've ever loved, I've wrecked! My Mom and Dad's marriage! Angel, he loses his soul! I got Jonathan killed 'cause I didn't protect him! You begged me to, Willow! And now Giles, my Watcher . . . and Xander . . . poor, brave Xander . . ."

Buffy's breathing was now coming in gasps that dissolved into grief. The years of secrets, sorrow and misunderstandings were flooding out. For a second, she sobbed between breaths and Willow felt the urge to wrap her arms around her best friend. But suddenly the Slayer cried out, a howl of despair that rang off the library walls. Willow imagined it was the sound a soul might make as it felt the lifeblood of its own body rush away into nothingness as it was stolen by the attack of a vampire.

"Buffy?" she asked tentatively after silence had finally descended on the library.

"Shut up! Just Shut Up, Rosenberg!" Buffy shouted in fury, "Get outta here!"

Buffy's anger was like a slap in the face for Willow. Deeply hurt, she began to back away from the Slayer. Just as Willow was about to turn and walk out of the library, she hesitated, wracked with doubt, and glanced back over her shoulder at Buffy who still shivered silently sitting in the chair. Willow couldn't leave her friend now. This was the time. She needed "Willow Tough" more than anything. Drawing on resources she never knew she had, she straightened up and strode back to Buffy.

"Leave me alone, Will," the Slayer muttered between sobs.

Willow didn't speak for a moment. She waited patiently for the sobs to subside. Puzzled by the silence, Buffy, her face streaked with tears, finally looked up at Willow again. The Slayer was immediately confronted by "Willow Tough" who paced back and forth like a first grade teacher.

"Buffy Summers," Willow announced as if she were slapping an invisible ruler in her palm in preparation for the nearest set of knuckles, "I've been your best friend for two years. But I'm a substitute teacher at this school now as well and you're still just a student. You may be the Slayer but I'm pulling rank on you."

Buffy stared in astonishment.

"Ms. Summers," Willow continued in a red haired version of Principal Snyder, "Your answers to these problems are completely unacceptable. Besides being grammatically incorrect, they are ill thought out and they're also . . ."

Willow hesitated for a second searching for the right word. In reality, she knew exactly what she wanted to say. It was just she always had "issues" with her own use of vulgarity.

". . . well, they're . . . crap! There, I said it!" Willow finally spat the word out and her face blushed the color of her hair.

Buffy, though her eyes were still red from crying, couldn't help but smile at Willow who was now storming in mock fury back and forth.

"Your reasoning is crap!" Willow continued, now starting to relish the wonderfully cacophonous sound of the word, "Blaming yourself is crap! Everything you just said is . . . crap! Crap! Crap! Crap!"

Willow began to giggle as Buffy, struggling to control a snicker, put her hand over her mouth.

"Ms. Summers! What do you find so amusing?" Willow announced as she battled one last time to keep a straight face, "Would you like to share it with the class, please. As long as it's not . . . Crap!"

Willow's giggles overwhelmed her. Buffy, who was now laughing as well, gave up, stood and hugged her friend standing before her. Willow, in Buffy's arms, silently smiled.

"Slayerette, two. Sour puss, zero," she said softly to herself.

Buffy heard the remark and hung her head momentarily.

"Thanks, Will. I'm so sorry."

"Anytime," Willow grinned from cheek to cheek, "Now that's over with, let's get real here. What are we going to do?"

"I have to return to the Master's Chamber," the Slayer answered fearfully, "I'm sure Giles and Xander are there. That's where Drusilla will try to re-open the Hellmouth."

Buffy strode over to Giles' weapons cabinet and withdrew a second small crossbow.

"And what do you need me to do?" Willow asked eagerly.

"You're staying here. You're not going."

The Slayer's firmness crushed Willow one more time.

"What? Not again!"

"I'm serious, Willow. I may have lost Xander and Giles, and I don't know what to expect from Jonathan. I don't want to lose you, too."

"Buffy, remember what Giles said, how the line between the soul and the mind was not clear," Willow protested, "You've got to let me get to Jonathan. Even if a little of his soul is still there, I called him back the first time! I want to try again!"

"No, Willow, that's a long shot and you know it! You're not going!"

Buffy headed for the library door.

"But Buffy, I'm your first Slayerette!" Willow called out.

Buffy stopped and turned back.

"No, Willow, you're not!" she replied with as much love as she could muster. Somehow she had to make her understand.

"You're my best and maybe last friend. If I have to lock you in that book cage, I will!"

Willow pouted.

"I'm sorry. Please don't be mad at me," Buffy said softly as Willow saw the glistening building up in the Slayer's eyes.

"I have to do it this way . . . If I lost you . . . what would I have left?"

Buffy quickly ran out through the library door and disappeared down the hallway before Willow could see the wetness streaming down the Slayer's cheeks once more. Discouraged, Willow kicked in anger at a nearby table.

"Ow!"

Sulking, she hobbled over to her computer terminal. She sat down and picked up the notebook of Johannes Martel, drawing it up to her chest.

"Oh, Jonathan, what am I going to do?" she whimpered to the volume resting against her heart.

She lowered the book into her lap and gazed at the dark leather cover. Then, cradling the notebook once more, Willow rocked gently back and forth in her chair.

"Jonathan, it's your Lady Willow. Help me. Please, tell me what to do."

A single small drop fell from her cheek and landed on the leather cover. It spread as a slight stain on the black calfskin. Suddenly, the pages inside emitted a faint yellow light. Sucking in a deep breath, Willow stared down at the transformation taking place in her lap. She glanced up suddenly at a shimmering in the air not ten feet away as the translucent figure of Johannes Martel slowly materialized.

He turned wildly from side to side and his voice was a muffled echo as if it were traveling across vast dimensions of space and time.

"Who is it! Who's here? I know someone's here!"

"It's me, Jonathan!" Willow cried out, "It's Willow! I'm right in front of you!"

"Please," he pleaded, "Tell me who you are! I can't see you, and I can barely hear your voice!"

Remembering Buffy's description of their encounter in the cemetery, Willow leaped to her feet and reached out to grab the specter by the hand. Her fingers passed through his, but as they did, she felt a sudden rush of air and a tingling around her palms that spread up her arm.

Martel suddenly stopped moving. He stared down at his hand where Willow's floated invisible and motionless, mingling in his translucent flesh.

"Buffy?" the frightened eighteen year old telekinetic asked hopefully.

"No," Willow answered, her voice heavy with regret, "It's just me."

"Lady Willow?" he replied with his super polite name for her, born from years of training in the court of the Holy Roman Empire.

"Yeah," she replied adding, "And it's just 'Willow.'"

"Oh, yeah, sorry. I forgot," he answered, looking down. "I can't see you or anything. Your voice is real faint. I know this is the library but I'm not really here. I was supposed to pass over." He paused for a moment, gently trying to caress the invisible form of Willow's hand.

"Is Buffy there with you?" he finally asked. Willow heard so much more in that simple question. She felt the chills run up her spine as she realized, not only was it a lonely cry in the darkness but a deep yearning love still alive, still hopeful, reaching out across chasms of intervening Chaos. She understood that his love for Buffy was calling to her from beyond the grave.

"She's not here," Willow said, the tension mounting in her voice. "Jonathan! She's in terrible trouble! Drusilla's got Xander and Giles! She's raised your body and is using your powers to open the Hellmouth! She's gonna kill Buffy, but Buffy won't let me help her!"

"Rats' Crap!" he cursed and she felt the sensation in her hands intensify, "That stinking Drusilla! I knew it was her! When I get my hands on her, I'll put her ass where he nose is supposed to be! I'll turn her hair purple and make it grow out of her teeth!"

"Jonathan . . ." Willow interrupted his temper fit.

"What?"

Willow moved her hand gently through his shadow-like fingers so he felt her presence.

"You're kinda like, not here."

"Oh," he said discouraged as his voice dropped and he looked foolishly down at his feet, "I forgot that, too. I guess I'm not much good to anybody like this."

"No," Willow protested, "Buffy needs you now more than ever. You have to come back!"

"Don't say that," Jonathan stammered, his voice trembling, "I . . . I can't . . . I should have passed over three weeks ago."

"Yes you can! I'm going to do it!"

Jonathan looked up hopefully.

"I believe you," he said slowly with a faith in her that made Willow's spirit soar and ready to face any challenge.

"What happened to Buffy?"

"She's gone after them!" Willow exclaimed.

"Where?"

"The Master's Chamber in the old north crypt!"

"I don't know where that is!" the young telekinetic shouted in confusion, " I can't control where I am!"

"I'm going there! Follow my voice!" Willow said as she clenched at the emptiness that was Jonathan's hand. The tingling in her fingers and arm was now intense.

"I'm going to call you back the way I did before!" she continued.

Jonathan eagerly nodded, understanding.

"You have powers none of the others suspect," he said in awe. Willow heard the words faintly as Jonathan's voice began to drift.

"What should I do?" she cried out, realizing she only had seconds. She saw Jonathan's lips move but now the sound failed to reach across the Void separating them. But Willow knew exactly what he had said.

"Go, NOW!" his voice screamed silently from the emptiness between the living and the dead," Help Buffy! Go! Please!"

Willow didn't wait a second longer. She leaped away from her terminal, at the same time dumping Jonathan's notebook on the floor, and ran out of the library. The fading image of Jonathan Martel remained for just a moment more after Willow left. Not moving from where he stood, he stared around at the empty library. He mournfully studied each of the ordinary pieces of furniture, the mounds of books, every object in the room so common in life, now precious to him beyond words.

"Please, Lady Willow, Help Buffy," his lips prayed silently as his face, etched with sadness, began to disappear. He bowed his head, closed his eyes and quickly vanished.

Suddenly, Willow ran back into the now dark library, swept up Jonathan's notebook off the floor and quickly but carefully placed it on the table by her terminal. She then turned and ran as hard as she could through the library doors, down the school hallway and out into the night after Buffy.

**Chapter 13 - Oops!**

Buffy slipped deftly among the graves. The pitch darkness in the cemetery held her progress down to a fast walk but her vision from years of experience could easily differentiate the whirl of shadows from their sources. She aimed for the old north crypt entrance whose tunnels led to the Master's Chamber. She knew exactly what she would have to do when she arrived there. Her face was stern and set. As she approached a familiar monument, she stopped for just a moment and glanced down at the stone.

"Rest easy," the Slayer said softly to the grave of Jenny Calendar, "I won't let them hurt him. I promise."

Quickly, Buffy resumed her march in the direction of the crypt, leaving Jenny Calendar's stone like a lonely sentinel in the darkness.

Cordelia was finally finished cheerleading practice. Dressed in full regalia complete with pom poms, she headed across the school parking lot towards her red convertible. The minute she found a decent mirror, she'd have to do something about the "glow." She could feel the sweat trickling down her forehead and the spreading wet patch in the center of her blouse. Dreading being caught in such an undignified condition, she shook her head in disgust and hurried towards her convertible. At the same time, Willow burst out the front door and ran frantically after her down the school front steps to the parking lot.

"Cordelia! Wait!"

Out of breath, she caught up with the head cheerleader.

"What's wrong with you?" Cordelia said with disdain, "Although the disheveled look is kind of becoming in a funky sort of way."

"Buffy's gone after Drusilla!" Willow exclaimed, ignoring the insult, "She's going to the Master's Chamber under the old north crypt!"

"Hey, whatever low life she hangs out with is her own business."

"No!" Willow shouted, trying to regain Cordelia's limited attention span, "The vampires have got Giles and Xander! Drusilla's going to sacrifice them to reopen the Hellmouth! Cut their throats!"

"What? Xander?" Cordelia cried out in a panic.

"Listen! Get Oz! He's playing at the Bronze. I'm going ahead to help Buffy! Meet me at the crypt!"

Willow spun away from Cordelia and ran off towards the cemetery.

"Wait!" Cordelia called after her in complete confusion, "Where is this crypt? I only hang out at the mall!"

"Oz knows!" Willow yelled over her shoulder as she disappeared into the darkness.

"He would!" Cordelia muttered. Suddenly her thought processes kicked in again.

" . . .Oh . . My . . God! Xander!"

Cordelia sprinted to her convertible and, instead of opening the door, leaped over into the driver's seat. She threw the car into reverse and backed wildly out, smashing into another parked car. There was a loud crunch followed by the blare of an auto alarm as the impact took out part of the rear bumpers and the tail lights on both vehicles.

"Oops!"

Cordelia slammed her convertible into first gear and punched the accelerator. The eight cylinder muscle car, relishing Cordelia's heavy foot, burned rubber and peeled out of the parking lot towards the Bronze. The rest of the cheerleading squad, swarming through the front door and down the steps, watched in bewilderment. The alarm on the other damaged vehicle howled in protest into the night.

Stealthily, Buffy entered the edge of the clearing before the old north crypt. There was little light from the stars overhead and the distant street lamps. She could sense no one was there. A faint breeze rustled the bushes and trees. The Slayer stopped and glanced around, her eyes finally resting on the spot where the vision of Johannes Martel had last stood.

"Jonathan . . . Jonathan . . . are you here?" she asked almost in a whisper.

There was no reply, only the soft rustling of leaves and branches.

"Well, whether you are or not . . ." she continued firmly as if committed to making her final confession, "I just want to tell you . . . I'm sorry for all the pain I caused you . . . and what I have to do tonight . . . You see, if I can't stop Drusilla, then I'll have to . . ."

She couldn't finish the sentence. She still saw his face, his smile and those blue eyes that shown so brightly, partly because his eyebrows and hair were a rich walnut brown. She could hear him sitting across from her as they both talked at the Bronze just three weeks ago. They had told each other their deepest secrets and their frustrations at their prospective "callings" over which neither hand any control. And they had shared their fears that their lives would be violent and short. Buffy remembered well the look on his face that silently told her he knew his end was less than twenty-four hours away.

And she wouldn't accept that.

Later that night she had cast everything to the wind, taken the chance and seized the day as they exchanged a first kiss on her front porch. Their lips had barely touched, brushing softly back and forth over and over against each other as they drank in deeply their shared life breath. She remembered relishing the feel of his muscled arms around her waist the next day in the library when Giles had locked the door and left them alone together for several hours.

She had to stop. The memories were too fresh, the sensations and feelings too real, too intense, too close. If she didn't, she knew she wouldn't be able to do what she "had to do," as Jonathan had so often told her. Buffy looked down, shut her eyes briefly, then stared up at the steps on the crypt.

"You know I love you . . . " she whispered as she prayed her voice could somehow reach across the Gulf of Death separating them, "I never wanted it to come to this . . . But you see, I'm not going to make the same mistake with you I made with Angel . . . Please say you understand . . . and forgive me."

At first there was no reply. The clearing remained shrouded in darkness. She strained every fiber of her Slayer's senses, searching for some faint response. The minutes passed. As she was about to turn and climb the stairs to the crypt doorway, her whole body felt a warm sensation that wrapped around her and caused the tenseness of her muscles to briefly relax. Something warm brushed against the skin of her face like someone's cheek quietly settling in beside hers in a shared moment in the darkness together. Just as quickly it was gone.

Buffy waited a moment but there was still no sound except the rustling of the leaves above her. She understood. She had her answer. Now determined, the Slayer turned, strode out fully into the clearing and mounted the steps to the entrance to the Master's Chamber. She then took a deep breath, gripped the crossbow tighter, and marched in. She would do what she had to do.

At the Bronze, Dingoes were on stage and in full gig mode. The dance floor was packed with gently swaying couples as the band played a slow song. The lead singer caressed the microphone, stroking its long length and whispering her lyrics into the mouthpiece. Oz, standing towards the front of the stage, played delicate riff after riff on his lead guitar. Suddenly Cordelia, still in her full cheerleader outfit, ran in from the side of the stage towards Oz and whispered urgently in his ear. He gave her a look as if she were something he was trying to avoid on the sidewalk. Both began arguing under their breath so that neither could be heard clearly over the music.

"Now, Oz!"

"Is this for real? You want me to ditch out on a gig!"

Cordelia, never one for extended logical exchanges, particularly had no patience for discussion this evening. She calmly switched off Oz's amplifier. The rest of the band and the lead singer glanced around, slightly puzzled by the invasion of the Bronze stage by the Sunnydale High cheerleading squad, but kept on playing. Calmly, Cordelia unhooked Oz's guitar shoulder strap, took his electric guitar out of his hands and gently placed it against his amp. Without warning, she grabbed him fiercely by the hair and dragged him struggling off stage. His yells pierced through the music of the band and caused the eyes of several dreamy couples on the dance floor to open ever so slightly.

"Ooowww!"

Willow ran wildly through the cemetery, searching for Buffy. Unused to the dim light, she stumbled against stones and finally tripped, falling hard on the ground. She slowly sat up, the wind knocked out of her and held her stomach. She swayed back and forth struggling to catch her breath.

"Come on Willow, girl, you can't stop now!"

Willow staggered to her feet but fought to keep her balance as she felt the cemetery spin in her head.

"Oohh! I think I'm gonna barf! . . ." she said out loud to herself, "No, Willow. You can do that later. Buffy needs you now. Run feet!"

Marshaling all her strength and gagging just a little, Willow tottered off between the headstones.

Oz's van cruised down the avenue that surrounded the cemetery. Squinting as he drove, he searched for an open space to park. Impatiently, Cordelia fidgeted in the front passenger's seat. The curbs up both sides of the street were packed with cars. As far as could be seen, there was no place to park or even pull up.

"You know, you didn't have to yank that hard!" Oz complained, rubbing his scalp.

"I'm used to dealing with Xander," Cordelia replied tersely.

"Oh. . . . Where the hell did all these cars come from? Must be a concert at the Arena. The crypt is in there somewhere."

Oz pointed up in the darkness past an entrance gate.

"I'll drop you off, stash the van and be right back."

"Like Hell You Will!" Cordelia protested, "You're not leaving me here alone!"

"It'll just take a second!" Oz tried to be reassuring.

"No Way! There! There's a place!"

Cordelia indicated an open spot in front of a fire hydrant.

"I can't park there. I'll get towed!"

"Oh yeah! Like the cemetery's really gonna burn down!"

"I got too many tickets already. One more and I'll . . ."

"Pull in you twerp!" Cordelia snarled as she yanked the wheel towards the open space. The van careened up on the curb with a jolt, just missing the hydrant. Cordelia leaped out and ran for the cemetery entrance with Oz right behind. Both disappeared into the darkness. A moment later Cordelia's voice rang out of the night.

"You idiot! Where the hell are the clubs! Go get 'em!"

Oz scrambled out of the darkness towards the side door of the van, opened it and grabbed two wooden clubs from Giles' weapons stash. He then scurried back and disappeared into the cemetery the way he had come. From somewhere out of sight Cordelia's voice cut like a razor.

"Sheesh! You're worse than Xander!"


	5. Part 5 Footprints in the Sand

"If I should die before I wake" - Part 5 _by  
Gaius Petronius_

DISCLAIMER:  
Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all the characters that appear on the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, the WB, Fox and Mutant Enemy, Inc. I only borrow them, mess with their heads, make them cry and, every once in a while, torture them. I do lay claim to the character of Johannes Martel since he is the central character in an original novel I've been working on now for too many years.

Spoilers: BtVS season two. Originally written in script format during the spring of 1998, "If I should die before I wake" is the sequel to my first Buffy novel, "Carpe Diem."

Rating: PG-13 for violence and language.

**"If I Should Die Before I Wake"  
**by Gaius Petronius

"But in the grey of the morning,  
My mind becomes confused  
Between the dead and the sleeping  
And the road that I must choose."

The Moody Blues, "Question," 1970

"Now I lay me down to sleep,  
I pray the Lord my soul to keep.  
If I should die before I wake,  
I pray the Lord my soul to take."

Anonymous child's prayer

**Chapter 14 - "Just remember, okay?"**

Buffy knew the tunnels under the old North Crypt that led to the Master's Chamber too well. Every turn, every outcropping, every change in the slope of the floor was seared into her memory. After all, this where she had died once before. Now she would face whatever awaited her if only to free Giles, Xander and Jonathan Martel.

There was no caution in her approach, only stern determination as she marched down the dimly lit tunnel leading to the Chamber where Drusilla, Spike and Angelus were preparing to use Jonathan's telekinetic powers to re-open the Hellmouth. Rubbish littered the path and a thin trickle of foul smelling water ran across the rock floor. A rat scurried off into the pitch black of a side passageway. Buffy stared straight ahead as she walked, the crossbow clutched firmly in her hands pointed forward.

At the same time, Willow stumbled in the dark up the crumbling steps of the old Crypt where Buffy had entered minutes before. She stopped at the open iron gate door and peered inside. Terrified of plunging into the depths below alone, she hesitated for a moment and took a deep breath.

"Follow my voice," she whispered to the shroud of night hanging over her as she prayed silently that Jonathan's specter from the library could hear her words. There was no reply, so Willow slipped into the tomb as quietly as she could.

At the end of the tunnel that opened up into the Master's Chamber, a hideous red glow from a dozen torches illuminated the moss covered and insect infested walls. Ahead Buffy heard raucous voices. She strode by a small passageway that branched off and terminated at the other side of the Chamber. She didn't even give it a glance, choosing instead the main entrance.

Under the dancing torch light, Drusilla, Spike and Angelus gathered around a make shift altar in the center of the Chamber. On the top of the altar sat a large reddish brown stone bowl. Stained streaks that glowed in the light from the flames ran down the container's sides. The large second calfskin bound volume of Johannes Martel's accumulated spells lay close by.

Against a side wall, Giles and Xander, their hands raised above their heads and shackled to the stone wall, dangled limply. Both were beaten and Xander sported bruises about his face, a result of his mouthing off at Angelus. This time his verbal barbs had been pointed, containing pithy remarks about Angelus' anatomy and its inadequacies for propagating the species. Spike finally had to stop Angelus, reminding him that the sacrificial blood required for opening the Hellmouth had to come from a "living" victim. Several vampires stood guard, every now and then prodding the prisoners with blunt wooden stakes so they wouldn't pass out.

Drusilla paced about the altar and fondled a long curved knife, its blade ornamented with lurid carvings of humans and half human, half goat demons rendered in perverse poses. She ran her finger over the blade repeatedly testing it for sharpness. She didn't wince when the blade slipped through the pale white skin of her thumb drawing blood. Spike saw the red drops fall to the altar and realized he was becoming aroused.

In a far corner of the Chamber, away from all the activity, Jonathan Martel stood alone between two large candles on pedestals. His hands tied behind his back, he leaned against a stone outcropping rising up out of the floor of the Chamber. He didn't move and his face wore a blank stare giving no appearance he was aware of where he was or conscious of what was happening. His skin was almost as white as that of the vampires and his unseeing eyes, instead of their normal bright blue, shown with a dull grey in the wavering torch light.

Earlier as Xander and Giles were being shackled to the wall, the Watcher observed that the young telekinetic appeared to be nothing more than an empty shell, a living body without mind or soul. Xander had cried out to Martel for help but Drusilla had laughed evilly when there was no response.

"What's the hold up? I'm getting thirsty!" Angelus chuckled.

"Your date will be here in a moment, Angelus," Spike replied, his voice dripping venom.

As if in response, Buffy suddenly stormed into the Chamber.

"See, right on time!" Spike grinned.

"Buffy! No!" Giles gasped, "Get out!"

Xander yanked furiously at the bonds holding him and screamed at the Slayer.

"Run, Damn It! Pull a Cordy! Run!"

Buffy said nothing but halted at the head of the altar. Quickly she raised the cross bow and fired a dart straight at Drusilla. Her aim was precise, but Drusilla made a slight motion with her hand, and the dart spun wildly off target, embedding in the wall. Buffy drew another dart from out of her coat pocket to reload. She raised the crossbow a second time, but Drusilla made the same motion with her hand.

This time the crossbow, as if snatched by an invisible force, was knocked out of Buffy's grasp and flew across the Chamber to smash against the wall. Buffy immediately dropped into a defensive stance. Drusilla glided menacingly towards her. As she did, the vampire spoke in a cold, almost disembodied voice unlike what the Slayer remembered from their previous encounters.

This wasn't the flighty, insane ramblings of the Drusilla who had come to Sunnydale on Spike's coattails. Rather there was something in this creature far older and infinitely more evil. Something that conveyed the steely logic of the blade she clutched in her hand. The coppery slits of her eyes made Buffy step back a pace as Drusilla's face morphed. Then Buffy realized what it was. She remembered Jonathan describing it. The voice was what Drusilla had once been, that of the crown princess of the Holy Roman Empire just after she had been sired, calculating and as cold and merciless as the ocean's depths.

"So, I finally get to meet the little slut who bedded my fiance!" Her yellow teeth glowed in the red light.

"Dru! Language!" Spike grinned in mock admonition.

"Spike, she's the one who broke my Angelus' heart. And then the brazen bitch tries to steal the heir to the throne from me!"

Spotting the location of the notebook, Buffy moved towards it but Drusilla waved her hand a third time. The Slayer was struck by an invisible blow to the face. She stumbled backwards but quickly regained her balance. Again Buffy aimed for the book of spells. Once more Drusilla struck her with an unseen blow, this time sending Buffy sprawling to the floor.

The Slayer leaped back to her feet, her lip bloodied. Drusilla waved her hand once more and an invisible thrust struck Buffy in the pit of the stomach, dropping her to her knees. This time, Drusilla raised both hands in an outward motion, releasing a surge of energy that lifted Buffy up and threw against the stone wall. She remained suspended in mid air against the wall, her arms outstretched and immovable as if pinned to the stone by unseen shackles. The lackey vampires roared their approval while Angelus drooled in anticipation.

Willow heard the shouts as she approached the same fork in the tunnel Buffy passed earlier. Down the tunnel leading to the main entrance to the Chamber, she heard Drusilla cursing Buffy.

"Which way? Which way?" Willow whispered in a plea to the empty darkness.

She quickly studied the smaller passageway leading out of the main tunnel. There was light at the end as well but the tunnel clearly squeezed down so that she would have to crawl the last distance before emerging into the Master's Chamber.

"Ooo, Icky!" she groaned as she swallowed the growing lump in her throat.

She then crouched and entered the smaller passageway. As the ceiling quickly dropped down she was reduced to crawling on hands and knees. The floor was wet and slippery with an unnameable liquid and at times what her hands and knees encountered felt spongy. Algae that glowed with a lurid phosphorescence covered the walls.

"Eeeww! uughh!"

Willow made a face as she fought to control her convulsing stomach.

"Oh please, no. Not now!"

At the far end of the Master's Chamber near where Jonathan stood bound, Willow's head poked out of the small tunnel exit. Muck was smeared across her hands and face, but her eyes opened wide when she saw how close she was behind Jonathan. The rock outcropping where he was bound and his tall frame blocked her from being seen by Drusilla. Quickly Willow squeezed out of the tunnel and crept towards the soulless body of the young telekinetic.

"You trust love too much, Slayer," Drusilla preached as she drew the curved knife blade across Buffy's throat, lightly pricking the skin in one spot, "That is your weakness. Wizards answer cries for help and Slayers fall in love. So are they both brought down."

Buffy thrashed trying to free her arms and legs but the unseen bonds held both firm. In desperation, she turned to Jonathan who only stared blankly ahead.

"Jonathan! Help! Please!"

"He can't hear you any more," Drusilla hissed, her fangs almost touching Buffy's cheek and ear, "He's come back to me, his Princess. You see, we were engaged back then, I as heir to the Holy Roman Empire and he as descendant of the Empire's founder, Charles Martel."

Buffy ignored Drusilla's taunting. Her eyes remained glued to the soulless figure of Jonathan. She could see something was moving in the shadows behind him.

"When we are finished here tonight, Slayer, the creature you once knew, your lover, will be harvested as mine! And he will join me in our rightful inheritance as my Emperor of all the Dead."

Drusilla lifted her hand as her fingers clutched the handle of the knife in preparation for the final plunge. At the same time, Willow, who had crept up behind Jonathan, silently untied his hands. Jonathan was unresponsive but, across the room, Spike noted Buffy's stare. He followed it to its source and grinned when he caught a flash of red hair shifting around in the shadows.

"Jonathan, it's me, Willow!" she whispered urgently, "Follow my voice! You've got to help us! Drusilla's going to kill Buffy!"

Jonathan's face remained cast in a blank stare.

"Please, Jonathan!" Willow begged, struggling to remember how she had reanimated him three weeks ago in the library, "Lady Willow, it's me, Lady Willow! Remember, I called you back before! Follow my voice! Please, the need is great! I need your help. The vampires are going to kill Buffy! She needs you now!

"Uh, Dru, darling," Spike said nonchalantly, "I think a little red bird is whispering naughty nothings in your emperor's ear."

Drusilla glanced away from Buffy towards Jonathan and Willow. She frowned slightly as if presented with a minor distraction.

"Johannes, my love, kill her. Break her neck."

Drusilla, Spike and Angelus returned their attention to Buffy who stared in terror at Jonathan and Willow.

"NO! Jonathan, don't!" Buffy screamed.

Jonathan seized Willow by the shoulder with one hand and reached toward her neck with the other. Willow shrank down in his grip.

"It's your Lady Willow!" she begged, and her mind reached out, trying to cast her cry across the realms of Chaos between them. Her last words were a silent plea to a spirit she knew was somewhere beyond the Void. "Help me, please! My voice! Follow my voice!"

Suddenly the glassy stare vanished from Jonathan's face just as his fingers began to tighten around Willow's throat. She saw the dull grey in his eyes shift to their original bright blue and the color return to his hand.

"You're back! Oh, you're back!" Willow gasped despite the tightening grip on her windpipe.

"Lady Willow . . .?"

"Gagging now!"

"Sacre Merde!" he cursed under his breath as he released Willow, "What the rat's crap have I been doing!"

"Sssh!" Willow whispered as she pulled his hand away and pointed across the room, "Buffy, please help Buffy!"

Jonathan turned towards the confrontation about the altar. Suspended from the floor, Buffy gazed back, the despair on her face expecting any moment to be Willow's last. Jonathan silently mouthed three words to Buffy.

In an instant, the Slayer understood. Her heart leaped as it had in his arms on her front porch three weeks ago. A surge of adrenalin roared through her veins as she realized that Jonathan was now fully conscious. Although still pinned and unable to move, her despair fled away. She turned an icy glare at Drusilla who was ready to plunge the sacrificial knife directly into her heart.

"And now, Slayer, you will feel the luscious pain as your life blood pours out before your eyes, a gift to the world of demons to be released from the Hellmouth."

Drusilla raised her arm ready to let the knife plunge but Jonathan made a slight wave of his hand and the curved blade broke loose from Drusilla's grasp. It flew wildly across the room, slicing firmly into the neck of the vampire guarding Giles. In the same instant as the severed head rolled loose, the vampire exploded into dust. Drusilla turned in shock to Jonathan.

"BAD WIZARD!" she howled, "I said break _her_ neck!"

Spike's eyebrows rose in nervous surprise at Drusilla's response.

Jonathan spun his left hand. Instantly, Drusilla's hair turned a lurid purple. She stared at Jonathan totally aghast and then held a strand of her hair out in front of her. Her howls of fury rang in the Chamber. Willow began to giggle. Jonathan followed this up with a twist of his right hand. Drusilla's face jerked back as if it were struck with a hard slap.

"Daddy!" Drusilla whined to Angelus, "Bad Wizard just hit me!" Spike instantly understood the transformation in Drusilla's voice. The power behind the "Princess" was swept away.

"Oh, bloody muck!" he muttered.

"Your hair looks pretty shitty too," Angelus nodded not comprehending exactly what was happening.

"Dru, you've lost control of him! Let's get outta here!" Spike shouted.

"NO! He's still mine! I won't let nasty bitch Slayer have him! Kill the Watcher and her friend," Drusilla shouted at the remaining vampires.

Buffy and Jonathan's eyes exchanged the same thought. He pointed his hand at Buffy who lurched free as if her invisible shackles were suddenly released. Freed from the wall, Buffy somersaulted in a leap toward the vampires and planted a kick directly on Drusilla who tumbled back against Angelus and Spike.

"Call me names, will ya!" the Slayer snarled, "I'll teach ya to ruin my reputation!"

"Angelus! Get the book!" Spike yelled as he spun his wheelchair, "Move it! Now, Dru!"

Angelus snatched up Jonathan's notebook of spells and retreated out the far tunnel. The remaining vampires around Xander and Giles moved to intercept Buffy before she could get at Drusilla. At the last minute, Cordelia and Oz, each carrying a club, leaped out of the entrance tunnel and clobbered two of the vampires.

"Some cavalry!" Willow shouted at the reinforcements, "Where the hell were you two?"

"'Van man' here couldn't find a parking place!" Cordelia thumbed at Oz as she hefted the club in her hands. For a moment she appreciated the weight and balance of the weapon.

"I can't help it if there's a Metallica concert at the Arena! Man, they suck, too!" Oz snapped back, making a face at Cordelia at the same time.

Buffy pitched one of the remaining vampires against a protruding iron spike in the wall. He burst into dust. Spike frantically rolled his wheelchair out the tunnel after Angelus.

"Give it up, Dru, you've lost this one!" he yelled back over his shoulder as the line of vampires disintegrated before the onslaught of the Slayer.

For a moment more Drusilla hesitated. Then, as if one last shred of the Crown Princess remained, she cast a final glare of fury at Buffy. Their eyes met in an invisible clash of wills. Neither moved as if both were locked in each other's mental grip. Then just as quickly, Drusilla turned away and vanished down the tunnel after Spike. Buffy held her ground, not taking up the pursuit. She breathed heavily, as her mind reeled from the power of the creature she had just confronted.

"Uh, we don't mind being the wallflowers of this party but do ya think. . . ?" Xander remarked as he jiggled his chains and swung gently from the stone wall.

"Oh, Geez! Jonathan!" Buffy exclaimed as her trance was broken, "Turn them loose!"

The young telekinetic slid to his knees and shook his head trying to restore his strength and vision. The room was beginning to spin. Still he waved one hand releasing Giles and Xander from their bonds. Both flopped to the Chamber floor but instantly were on their feet.

"Are you okay?" Willow said with concern as she struggled to help Jonathan keep from collapsing.

"I don't know. . ." he said softly, "I think I can see what's going to happen. And there's nothing we can do."

"What is it?"

Jonathan just shook his head.

" . . . no . . ." Willow whimpered sensing the weight of the impending premonition.

"It's all right," he replied, "I owe you a great debt, Lady Willow."

"It's just 'Willow' you know," she corrected him for what seemed like the hundredth time as she felt a slight wetness run down her face that wasn't from the mud in the tunnel.

"Just Willow, then," he said softly as he sank down to the floor, his eyes closing.

"Buffy!" Giles yelled from across the chamber, "Drusilla and Angelus still have Jonathan's book of spells! We've got to get it back!"

Xander snatched up his trusty ax. Giles grabbed one of the sacrificial double bladed axes used for severing the heads of victims and Oz patted his club in his hands.

"Okay, guys!" Xander announced, "Let's show the blood suckers what these babies can do! Buffy!"

Buffy looked up at Xander who cast his glance in the direction of Willow and Jonathan.

"Someone needs you real bad right now," he announced as he headed for the tunnel where the vampires had fled.

"Be careful!" Buffy called out.

"We'll be right back!" she heard his cheery response echo from out of the dark.

Oz and Giles quickly followed.

Drusilla, Spike and Angelus, preceded by two other vampires, plunged headlong in full flight through the branching passageways from the Master's Chamber. Suddenly they were confronted with an open ancient doorway. A burning torch hung from the wall on the other side of the wall.

"Through here!" Spike yelled to Angelus, "Block the doorway!"

"Who do you think you are you giving orders around here . . ." Angelus snarled but Spike cut him off.

"Block it, you garlic brain!"

Angelus shoved the creaking door shut and threw an old sliding bolt to lock the barricade shut. Spike snatched the Martel notebook out of Angelus' hands and tossed it open onto the floor. He then wheeled over to the torch, pulled it off the wall and rolled back to the book. Quickly he shoved the flames into the dry parchment. The book blazed up in a flash as if it were soaked in pitch.

"What the hell are you doing?" Angelus shouted.

"I'm destroying the wizard, you fool!"

"No, Spike!" Drusilla cried out as if Spike was cutting off the head of one of her precious dolls without letting her help.

"Yes, Dru! This game is over! Once the spells are burned, all that will be left of Martel will be an empty shell!"

"But all the wizard's power, all his knowledge . . ." Angelus stammered.

". . .is not going to do us any bloody good if he's in the Slayer's control!" Spike snapped back.

Spike shoved the torch against the book harder to ensure every inch was engulfed. The flames illuminated the passageway with a livid red glow. Seared by the light, tiny white skinned creatures of the tunnels burrowed into the crevasses of the rocks.

"This way his mind and soul will vanish forever," the vampire declared.

"Spike! You don't tell Dru or me what to do!" Angelus growled in a challenge. Immediately, Spike rose to meet it.

"I do now! All these games of yours, all they've gotten us is a Slayer and a wizard working together. Hell! The Anointed One had a better track record than you two! From now on, I'm back and I'm calling the shots, got it!"

Angelus wilted. Besides it was a little late now to be arguing with the Martel book of spells in flames.

"And I say we take out the wizard now!" Spike announced with finality.

"But I so wanted Johannes to join our happy family," the old Drusilla pouted. Although Spike recognized the voice and was comforted by its wicked familiarity, for a moment he longed for the fierce creature of moments before that was fed by powers far greater than he could imagine.

"Some things just weren't meant to be, luv. You can't always get what you want. . . But you've still got me."

Giles, Oz and Xander reached the other side of the bolted door. Xander yanked on the handle to no effect.

"No, luck?" Giles asked.

"I think a little persuasion is in order," Xander answered with relish as he drew his ax back for a furious swing.

"Right!" Giles said as he slipped his glasses into his vest pocket.

All three rained a hail of blows against the door handle. The sound of crashing wood and bending metal echoed through the tunnel. On the other side of the door, the vampires looked up as wood began to splinter and ax points protruded through gashes in the door. Spike poked the book with the torch one final time so that it was fully ablaze. He tossed the torch aside.

"Now let's clear outta here!"

Drusilla took up her position at Spike's chair and wheeled him toward an exit into the night at the end of the tunnel. Grumbling, Angelus followed. As they all ran out into the darkness, Drusilla pouted again.

"I'm so sorry, my love."

"That's all right, Dru, darling," Spike replied, now comfortable with the old sound of her voice, "Happens to the best of us."

Angelus glared at Spike who just smirked back.

Giles, Oz and Xander finally forced the door open, the shattered wood and twisted bolt and lock howling in one final protest. Xander and Oz ran in pursuit of the vampires, but Giles stopped by the blazing notebook which was virtually all consumed. Xander and Oz halted at the exit from the tunnel. Xander gazed out into the night but saw no one. Both quickly returned to Giles who stood staring at the now dying flames rising from the ashes of the notebook. All realized what they were witnessing and its consequences.

" . . . oh, God. . ." Xander muttered quietly.

"This is the end of the line?" Oz asked Giles.

"We better get back to Buffy," the Watcher replied as all turned and ran back up the tunnel the way they had come.

"Buffy! Cordy! Help me here!" Willow cried out as Jonathan slid from her arms to the floor.

Buffy raced to their side and dropped down on her knees. For a second, she stared in disbelief at the body lying just before her on the cold stone floor. Martel opened his eyes and could make out the out of focus image of Buffy.

"Hey, Couz . . ." he said softly.

"Jonathan! You're alive!" Buffy cried out as she swept his limp body up in her arms.

"I heard you, all the time," Jonathan whispered weakly, ". . . even in the darkness when there was nothing else."

"Outside, a little while ago, I tried to talk to you," Buffy rambled as she ran her hands through his long brown hair and pressed his face close against her cheek, "Somehow, I knew you'd hear. Please forgive me."

"You did what we 'have to do,'" he whispered in her ear, ". . . You know. That's the way it is with you and me . . . You don't need me to forgive you . . . just forgive yourself."

Buffy understood and nodded.

"Lighten up on yourself, Cuz," he said with a grin as he weakly grasped her hand in his.

Buffy held his hand tightly. It was now solid and she swore in her heart she would not let go.

Deep in the tunnel, the final flames enveloping the notebook were dying out. Sheets of ash dropped to the floor from the little pyre.

"I thought I'd lost you. You're going to get stronger now," Buffy nodded encouragingly.

"Buffy . . . you have to let me go."

"You can hang out at Giles' as long as you need," she continued, not listening to him, "Rest up. You won't have to do anything. We're gonna have those great times, remember?"

"I love you, Buffy." The words were almost inaudible.

"I love you, too, Jonathan," she replied, happy but puzzled by his tone.

The shadows on the stone walls of the tunnel swelled as the last flames in the notebook's ashes ran out of fuel and flickered out..

". . . you must let me go . . ." he whispered.

"I don't understand. That's what you were saying in the cemetery."

"I'm only a shadow," Jonathan said looking Buffy directly in the eyes, "I died three weeks ago."

"No, you're still alive!" she argued in confusion, "I can see you. I can touch you."

"You must let me go. I'll always be with you, as long as you remember."

"No! Jonathan! Don't talk like that!"

"This is your new world," he answered weakly recalling their night together dancing at the Bronze, "You said 'Don't look back, 'cause it hurts too much.' So, don't . . . just remember the good stuff, and I'll always be with you . . . just remember. . . okay? . . . just remember . . ."

His voice trailed off like a fading call in a bottomless cavern.

The last dying rays of light from the burnt notebook flickered out leaving ashes in the darkness.

Jonathan's eyes glassed over. Staring blankly ahead, he sank into Buffy's arms in what appeared to be a deep coma.

"NO! I'm not losing you again!" Buffy's cry rang off the unforgiving stones around her.

Giles, Xander and Oz burst into the chamber.

"Sorry, Buff, they got away," Xander said, wiping his brow and wincing as he touched the bruises on his face.

"Giles! I can't wake Jonathan! I don't know what's happened!" Buffy's eyes pleaded with her Watcher.

Giles swept down and knelt beside Buffy who had laid Jonathan out on the floor. Giles briefly studied the comatose telekinetic's eyes and tested his pulse. He then laid the motionless arm back down on the cold stones.

"Buffy," he said as tactfully as he could, "The vampires burned Jonathan's notebook. The spells, . . .they're all gone. I'm afraid this is the end."

"But he's still alive!" the Slayer protested, "He's breathing! He has a heartbeat!"

"That's only the power in the candles keeping the body alive. His mind . . . his soul . . . the Jonathan Martel we know . . . is gone."

"No! Giles!" Buffy screamed in fury at her Watcher, "There's got to be something else you can do! Something in one of your books!"

Unable to face Buffy, Giles looked down at the floor as he answered.

"He knew this was the way it would end."

"Godammit, Giles! You have to do something! We have to do something!"

Quickly Xander stepped up beside Buffy and placed his hand gently on her shoulder.

"Easy there, Buff. We will."

Xander paused and took a deep breath marshaling the strength he knew she would need.

"We're gonna take him home."

Buffy stared up at Xander and realized, just as always, he was there again for her. She nodded in agreement.

**Chapter 15 - Epilogue - Footprints in the Sand**

In Giles' apartment, Jonathan Martel lay comatose on a simple cloth cot. His eyes were open but staring blankly at the ceiling. The room was almost dark except for the light cast from the pair of burning candles at either end of the cot. Buffy sat alone in a small metal folding chair by Jonathan's head. Every now and then she gently stroked his hair.

There was a tentative knock at the apartment front door. Buffy didn't rise to answer. A moment later, the door opened slightly, and Willow poked her head in.

"Anyone here? . . . Buffy?"

"Yeah, come on in, Will," the Slayer finally answered.

Willow and Cordelia slipped in cautiously and joined Buffy. They both stared in silence at Jonathan for a brief moment.

"Where's Giles?" Willow asked.

"He went down to the LA Library," Buffy answered flatly.

"So he couldn't find anything in his own books? His contacts in London?" Cordelia asked trying to get more information than could be gleaned from Buffy's cryptic answers.

"No. Where's Xander?" Buffy glanced around expectantly for the missing Scooby.

"He wouldn't come," Willow said.

Buffy looked down, hurt.

"No, it's nothing like that," Willow answered, "When Giles said there was nothing more to go through in the library, Xander still wouldn't leave. He's there now searching through piles of books. Most don't even have pictures in them."

"When Giles told him it was a waste of time," Cordelia said puffing with pride that Xander was her boyfriend, "Xander told Giles to go do something that I won't repeat!"

"I didn't hear it all," Willow added, "Something about Giles' pencils and sitting down and . . . I'm not going to go there." Willow's face flushed slightly at the memory.

"Any luck on the Net?" Buffy asked.

Willow shook her head. All were silent for a few moments more.

"How long is he going to be like this?" Willow finally asked.

"I don't know. As long as we keep the candles burning."

"And he can't see or hear or move?" Cordelia asked as she stared with morbid curiosity at the breathing body before them, "He hasn't given any signs or anything?"

Buffy sighed deeply before she spoke.

"When Spike burned his book of spells, that was the last time he recognized me. I just feel so alone now."

Again, everyone in the apartment stood silently, each absorbed in their own thoughts. Finally, Cordelia spoke.

"When I was a little girl," she confessed, "When my dad used to walk out on my mom and all, she'd sing to me at night when I was . . . lonely."

Tentatively at first, Cordelia began singing an old Welsh lullaby.

"Sleep my child and peace attend thee,  
all through the night.  
Guardian Angels God will send thee,  
all through the night."

As she began the second verse, her voice took on a lovely sweetness and quietly soared with the words.

"Soft the drowsy hours are creeping,  
Hill and vale in slumber steeping."

Buffy, listening carefully to every word in the lullaby, finally looked up at the head cheerleader whom she was seeing now for the first time.

"I, my loving watch am keeping.  
All through the night."

Buffy stood as both she and Cordelia embraced. Once more silence ruled the apartment.

"I'd pray if I could remember any," Buffy said as she sat back down.

"Xander taught me one when we were kids," Willow volunteered.

"Now I lay me down to sleep.  
I pray the Lord my soul to keep."

From the vague memories of a childhood never really lived, Buffy realized she recalled the last two lines. As she picked up the prayer where Willow left off, she gazed down at Jonathan and finally understood what he had been trying to tell her.

"If I should die before I wake," Buffy recited slowly,  
"I pray the Lord my soul to take."

Buffy stood up and slipped one of Jonathan's hands in hers. She caressed it tenderly, held it to her cheek and kissed it. She then put his hand down and bent down to kiss him one last time. Like the first time they kissed, their lips barely touched. She drew in his breath, searching desperately for any sign of the vibrant life force he had shared with her and she treasured so deeply.

Sensing nothing, Buffy straightened up, walked to the foot of the cot, paused to gather strength for what she was about to do, and blew out the first candle.

The darkness in the room drew in around them. Jonathan's dull grey eyes were now half shut. Realizing what was about to happen, Cordelia bowed her head slightly and closed her eyes. Understanding as well, Willow stuffed her hand to her mouth as the wetness ran uncontrollably down her cheeks. She wanted desperately to cry out, "No," anything to stop the events unfolding before her, but couldn't.

Buffy walked to the head of the cot, paused, brushed Jonathan's hair with her hand, paused again, and blew out the final candle. Jonathan's eyes slipped shut and his head tipped forward slightly. The blank, empty stare on his face vanished away and was replaced by the look of someone, who, after a long journey, was finally sleeping peacefully. In a moment more, the body of Johannes Martel returned to dust.

Still weeping, Willow buried her face on Cordelia's shoulder who held her tightly. Buffy stood silently beside the cot with only the faint glow from the street lights through the windows illuminating the room.

Two days later, Buffy and Giles stood on a beach littered with rock outcroppings. Waves broke against the cliffs towering around a spit of sand that reached like a finger out into the ocean. Buffy cradled a small wooden box in her arms.

"Thanks for bringing me, Giles," she said without emotion.

"That's all right. . . ." her Watcher answered, "You better do what you have to do."

Buffy nodded. She turned towards the water and walked down the spit of sand to the waves. As the water sloshed about her sneakers, she lifted the lid off the box, bent down and emptied the dust of Johannes Martel into the waves. She then stood again and stepped back from the edge of the water.

"Good night, Cuz . . . " she said quietly, "I'll remember . . . I promise."

The roar of the waves was the only answer.

Buffy watched for a long time as the water swirled the dust out to sea. She then turned and walked back to Giles with the now empty box still cradled in her arms. As both strode slowly up the beach together, Buffy suddenly stopped and turned to face the ocean. She gazed back one more time at where the dust washed away. Giles halted with her.

"Giles, . . . " she said staring out over the ocean, after a long pause, "I wonder what it would be like . . . to stand here forever."

Giles lowered his head and didn't say anything for a few moments. At last, he spoke quietly to break her reverie.

"Buffy . . ."

"Yeah?"

Buffy looked up at her Watcher. The expression on his face said "It's time."

"Okay, . . . " she nodded, finally satisfied, "I'm ready. Let's go."

Buffy turned away from the ocean. She and Giles resumed walking towards the car. Although still clutching the box fiercely, she did not stop to look back again. By the edge of the water, the waves washed away the last remnants of her footprints in the sand.

**FINIS**

1998 - 2004/2005

pax,  
Petronius


End file.
